


Star Trek Voyager: Before the Storm

by AdlerRhymes



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama & Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Multi, Porn with Feelings, Post-Endgame, Post-Episode: s07e25 Endgame (Star Trek: Voyager), Post-Season/Series Finale, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2020-10-04 15:33:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 75,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20473352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdlerRhymes/pseuds/AdlerRhymes
Summary: Post End Game Fix It: With relaunch novel tidbits thrown in for some canon compliance.It has been an arduous 7 years but the crew of the Starship Voyager are now home. Captain Janeway is fractured but she is not broken and as she attempts to reclaim what she has lost, she finds herself being pulled into more dangerous situations. Things were supposed to be simple back on the Alpha quadrant. So why are the holo-programs rebelling? Why are people disappearing? And more importantly, who is trying to kill her?Life is about to get far more complicated and a hell of a lot more messy.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This will be vaguely following the Relaunch Novels, I have taken some speech, especially with regards to J/C and their feelings for one another across all the series because it makes the whole thing a little more believable and isn't it nice to know that they are canon? And i appreciate that not everyone wants to wade through the novels, so at least this way you can cut straight to the heart. 
> 
> J/C heavy later on, so it's a build kinda romance. We have to get there first and it's not going to be a nice pleasant walk through a lush field for our couple, but the course of true love never did run smooth and there are some speed bumps up ahead, it will be worth it. I want this to be more than a fic where an OTP merely exists especially since i have loved the Star Trek: Voyager series in its entirety. 
> 
> So expect action, drama ,suspense and yes romance and smut of course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom is not certain he completely likes what he sees.

# Prologue

* * *

His hands were on either side of her face, resting gently before pulling her towards him, their lips met, it started of chaste and got progressively heated. Their kiss was passionate, profound, and promptly followed by a barely audible groan escaping from the man’s lips. Shy smiles were shared between them before separating, and then, after brief heated look, they walked off. Tom’s mouth had thinned to a line, teeth biting back the noise that threatened to escape. Suddenly, he was all too aware of the bundle in his arms, and he silently praised the Gods, thankful that she had remained quiet. He was now on autopilot, what he had seen had shaken his belief system to the core, his subconscious gave commands and he blindly followed. _Drop Miral off at sickbay, go to the bridge, remain on course,_ repeating the list, he put one foot in front of the other until he reached sickbay, not even acknowledging the doctor’s presence as he slid his daughter into the man’s arms. _Go to the bridge_ his thoughts demanded, and he did, he settled himself comfortably into his chair and stared at Earth, stared hard, hands hovering over the console.

He had just caught commander Chakotay and Seven, together.  
He had seen them kiss, passionately.  
He groaned, internally.

Always the hard path, the path that’s untravelled, fraught with danger and pain, once just once, he wished for simplicity. Simple, he scoffed, simple was tame and boring as hell, and they were crew members of _Voyager_. The word simple didn't exist in their vocabulary, and simple would have seen them home several years ago. Stretching his fingers wide, he returned his attention to the console “Fasten your seat belts. It’s going to be a bumpy ride” he muttered to himself.


	2. Homecoming

# Homecoming

* * *

Janeway was exhausted, she had spent the last 24 hours with Admiral Paris being briefed on the Dominion war, the losses were incredible and the damage irreconcilable. Where before she had been worried for her Maquis crew and her fate, now she was worried about the state of Earth. It had never crossed her mind that war would hit her home quadrant, they’d been so far removed that she had relegated it to some form of stasis in her mind. She was sure the whole crew had and rather naively believed they could slot into a semblance of normality, but the war had raged these quadrants, and they were tourists in a changed world. As she materialised on the Enterprise, she was greeted by warm hazel eyes that danced with affection and a hand that grabbed her own with kind regard.

“Permission to come aboard Captain.”

“Permission granted Captain, most warmly granted.” He motioned to the door, indicating that she follow him out of the transportation room “Such a dramatic entrance, in a flurry of fire, fury, and explosion. We were all but ready to shoot you down, expecting another Borg attack.”

“Nothing by half measures, I wanted to give you all something to remember.” She quipped, smiling as they entered the turbo lift.  
“The inquisition does not start for another hour. Could I possibly tempt you with a coffee?”

A wide smile brightened her face, and she could see him hold back the threatening chuckle, somethings certainly never did change, even after seven years. Janeway had settled on the sofa and looked out the viewport, and something of nostalgia hit her squarely in the gut. “Picard, how about a pot of Earl Grey” his raised brow didn’t go unnoticed, “Something tells me I am going to learn to love tea and there’s someone I want to toast to.”

* * *

They started at 1300hrs, and they were done by 1405hrs. The debriefing lasted a little more than an hour, and for the life of her, Janeway was failing miserably to understand what exactly had happened in the last 65 minutes. They had been missing for seven years, over 400 species catalogued, multiple prime directives broken, numerous run-ins with the Borg, to the point she mused that she really ought to have a membership card. An EMH who has exceeded his program parameters spectacularly, liberated aliens, liberated humans, and a crew of over 150. A wonderful crew, who exceeded expectations and performed admirably, one conjoined of Starfleet personnel and Maquis crewmen. Not only her crew but Janeway had to admit that she had exceeded expectations, it was not that she was expecting a parade, but rather something more than a cursory ‘welcome back’ nod. She had been briefed on the war of course and hadn’t expected their arrival to detract from that, yet this cool reception was difficult to fathom.

Cold and quick.

She certainly was not expecting to face the lukewarm reaction she was receiving from Admiral Montgomery, who seemed far interested in Borg technology and running her through the coals than anything else. She knew little of him, aside from the fact that he had instrumental in the war. His stormy grey eyes had remained narrowed in displeasure throughout the entire meeting, and she caught the twitch of his jaw several times as she spoke. She would have thought him handsome, with his thick, fair hair and muscular build but when she looked into his eyes, what lay there was glacial, ruthless and it negated his entire appearance demanding nothing but caution. _He was made for the war_ she thought offhandedly and while she had no doubt that Starfleet was lucky to have him, given the cursory glance she spared his record, that didn’t mean she had to like the man. For he was all short questions and clipped statements, he talked at her and not to her. He seemed to have a penchant for the interruption, at least when she spoke, as she barely managed a few sentences before he was cutting her off, offering withering stares and veiled insults.

“Are you even remotely remorseful for your actions regarding the Borg technology _y__ou_ used to get here and this altering the timeline, breaking how many prime directives in the process? Captain.” He threw out her title with distaste and before she could rebuff his statement, the hardened voice of Paris cut through the room.

“Ken.” His name may have been said gently, but there was steel behind that tone. “You rather conveniently forget that she didn’t do anything. A 26-year-old version of herself, from another timeline, did. Surely, we are not going to hold her responsible for the actions of her alternate self, less we set a dangerous precedent. And don’t even get me started on the extenuating circumstances that are riddled in this case.” Admiral Paris’ shot him a wry questioning glance, daring him to counter and Janeway willed herself to calm. Flexing her jaw into a relaxed state, she will be subservient in this room if only for her crew. Montgomery seemed to be considering a rebuttal, and he shot a final withering glance her way, seemingly fed up with her, and abruptly picked up his PADD.

“You’ve sent your Logs to Barclay?” She nodded in response not trusting herself to remain civil for long “Well, I want that technology “Future” as it may be analysed, be expecting my people on your ship within the hour captain.” And with that he strode out with several other colleagues at his heel, leaving her with Picard and Admiral Paris. Let them think they’ve placated me she thought, but internally she bristled.

“Katie” Admiral Paris’ face remained carefully neutral, but she could see the questioning twinkle in his gaze. Remaining silent for a few more moments, she tried to wade through her emotions, temper her ire enough to formulate a thoughtful response.

“It’s not at all what I expected” she relinquished finally.

“I know. Katie, you must understand, while we are incredibly thrilled to have you all return to us. The war has had a horrific impact on us, and we are mourning our dead, counting our losses rebuilding our world, liaising with the Cardassians. In short, trying to move on. Voyager has returned in a post-war haze, had it been any other time.” He strode down to her side, giving her a brief pat on the back “Things would have been different” and with that he too left, leaving her with Picard.

“I would ask you to join me for a cup of coffee, but something tells me that’s not going quite to cut it, something a little stronger. Perhaps a drink that lies in the realms of Scotland” he quipped, rising to meet her, she cocked her head at him, smirk on lips, he had remembered her second favourite beverage after all these years.

“Something Scottish will be more than acceptable.”

“Montgomery was unnecessarily harsh, and that debriefing was questionable, to say the least. My advice Captain, a quick scotch and then return to your ship and enjoy what calm exists. Something tells me a storm is due to brew.” He extended his arm, and she slotted her own through in careful contemplation, and together they strode out.

* * *

  
She had deactivated Michael Sullivan and would allow Tom to do what he saw fit with the program, she had nothing to hide, not from Starfleet nor herself. He had been a saving grace of sorts and allowed her an imagining of the one thing she forbade herself, it was penance for stranding them out there alone. When Janeway had arrived at Fair Haven he had spun her around, looking genuinely happy to see her, that happiness translated to the hug he gave her and the kiss he brushed upon her lips. It was bittersweet, having to explain that they would not see each other anymore, that her journey had ended.

  
“You made it home.” It was a simple statement, and it still had not sunk in yet, his hands had rested on her jaw. They parted with a kiss, she had been somewhat surprised that it hurt far more than she thought it would, saying goodbye to him. Perhaps it was because she knew she was saying goodbye to the one assured piece of happiness she had, throughout the Delta quadrant everything was left to chance, threats, people. Nothing was guaranteed, but here she knew even if it was holographic, she could assuredly have laughter, peace, and freedom, with the program gone she would now have to strike out on her own, there was no fail-safe, no net to catch her if she fell.

Now she sat in her ready room, sufficiently reflective enough to warrant another cup of coffee, for all the warmth the scotch had given her it paled in comparison to the warmth she derived from her cup. The heat infiltrated her fingertips, then her palms, and that first sip spread that warmth throughout her chest. In less than a day they would be entering Earth’s orbit, and Janeway allowed herself to reflect on the last 72 hours, she wanted to laugh, she wanted to cry, and something deep inside her wanted to scream. In the end, she settled on a controlled breath out and focused on silver linings, she thought of the warnings the Admiral had given her, the many landmines she had now managed to avoid. Her thoughts turned to Tuvok, and the fal-tor-voh had been successful, she had met Tuvoks’ eyes briefly as he left the medical bay along with his son, the glance was fleeting but enough for her to know that he would be fine. She knew from the doctor that he would require mild doses of medication to keep the disease from progressing, but all in all, she had managed to assuredly avert one of her future self’s warnings. 

She owed a lot to Admiral Janeway, a pistol of a woman, rule breaker.

A real force to be reckoned with, in possession of a resolve that Kathryn had yet to attain, sure she was stubborn to a fault. She would not argue that fact, and she was horrifically single-minded and driven. However, there had always been a limit, what she saw in that version of herself was a woman devoid of parameters and barriers, a woman who had lost too much. _I wonder if I’m on a different track_ now she mauled. Another sip of coffee and she settled to the top level of her ready room, allowing herself to acknowledge the fact that they had made it. It took a few more seconds for her to realise that she was no longer responsible for her crew’s survival and that knowledge was like an anchor being relieved from her neck, she could breathe, and to test out that new information she took a deep breath in. Relishing the way her chest expanded, it was uninhabited, free of guilt, the last years had gotten dark and painful, and if her future self was any indication, it had affected her deeply. She could no longer, not when she saw Earth hovering in the distance, imagine almost two decades out there in the unknown, alone. For she would have been alone, Seven would have been dead and Chakotay, she bit her lip painfully, well that was no longer a worry.

_I have secured their future_ she told herself,_ Do you mean your crew or Seven and Chakotay’s?_ Her mind offered.

The door chimed “Come”. Chakotay entered. _How serendipitous_ she told herself, he was clad in dress uniform with a small smile that gradually widened as he got closer to her desk and she could not help the automatic grin it elicited, ignoring the beginnings of pain that simmered in her chest.

“It’s time.” She followed him out, bracing herself, Janeway had toyed with the idea of saying goodbye over the intercom, never fond of goodbyes, but it seemed too impersonal, not after the several years they had spent together. No, she would address her crew in person, where she could see each of their faces.

“Captain on deck!” A ghost of a smile graced her face as the crew snapped to attention. Janeway peered out into the crowd eyes scouring their faces, committing each one to memory. This was it. Squaring her shoulders, she strode up front, arms behind her back.

“At ease” she called. “Seven years ago, I made a decision that left this fine crew and ship stranded more the seventy thousand light-years from home, and I did so with full conviction that we would return home” she paused “That I would return you home. We have faced a great many challenges; we have lost many. Many people with whom we wish could be here with us today, fine people.”  
Another pause, to give the crew a chance to reflect on those they had lost, and for her own need, this was harder than expected, she should have stuck to her speech in the PADD, but she wanted to speak from the heart. “But we have gained as well.” She peered out and found Seven and graced her with a smile, eyes moving purposefully to Lessing, Naomi, and Gilmore.

  
“I have asked so much of you these last few years, and you have never disappointed me. You have gone above and beyond the call of duty not only to me, to this ship but Starfleet, and I must say that it is I who is humbled to be in your presence today. It has been an honour, one that I cannot fully verbalise to have been your Captain these last several years. Our journey is done. We are home.”  
She felt her chest tighten and throat close, blinking in a laborious attempt to hold back the tears. “I would like to close with a quote from T.S. Eliot. ‘Not farewell, but fare forward, voyagers. May we voyagers all. Fare forward and Godspeed.” The room erupted into applause and cheers reverberated around the room. She felt Chakotay’s hand settle on her shoulder, the warmth seeping through her uniform, grounding her, hushing her spirit to still.

“Captain.” The whispered words close to her ear tightened her throat further “The crew would like the opportunity to make their farewells while they are still crew members of Voyager.” Janeway nodded, eyes schooled forwards, not trusting her voice and not trusting her resolve if she was to turn and face the eyes of her XO, she would not cry, this was a joyous moment. One by one, the crew members walked up to her, offering handshakes, hugs, and kisses, she savoured every touch and every word.  
Her crew, she loved them.  
She would remember it all.  
_Nothing_ she thought nothing_ will ever come close to this feeling_ and she believed it. There would be nothing that would ever eclipse this moment.

* * *

“I have news!” Tom had sidled himself between B’Elanna and Harry, briefly dropping a kiss to both his wife and child, placing his hands on their backs and marching them to the farthest corner.

“You always have news.” Harry whined, “When do you not have news?” Plopping himself down he opened his arms in a ‘give me’ motion towards B’Elanna, she settled Miral into his awaiting arms with a lopsided grin, the man was smitten and her daughter was only a few days old. Taking a seat next to Harry, she eyed her husband carefully. He had the look of an errant schoolboy as he bent down, eyes dancing and voice hushed to a conspirator tone.

“You are free to roam my dear, and the Maquis is safe.”

B’Elanna arched a questioning brow while Harry, far more intrigued in Miral, was still focused on the baby in his arms. He found her far more interesting, as the ensign gently stroked the ridges of her forehead he briefly looked up at Tom “They had the debriefing already? We haven’t even reached Earth yet, and we are days away. Where was it held?”  
“On the Enterprise.”

“And.”

“And.” Tom paused purposefully, ever the dramatist “My father just told me that Janeway got chewed out by one of the Admirals. A one Admiral Montgomery, of all the misadventures we’ve had over the last several years he focused his attention on one point. The arrival of the future Admiral Janeway and our interaction with the Borg.

“That’s hardly the captain’s fault, and the Admiral came from the future. From a different timeline,” Harry offered.

“Exactly and the whole debriefing was done in an hour with a heavy focus on Borg technology and access to Voyager within the next half hour to gather data on the tech. No mention of our Marquis additions” At this, he pointed offhandedly at B’Elanna “Nor our other multiple broken prime directives” Tom directed a salacious wink at his wife earning him a slap to the shoulder “Nothing was discussed. And Admiral Montgomery all but stormed out afterwards. He is not a fan of our captain, and he only met her this afternoon.” Tom eyed B’Elanna and Harry, and he had started with the surface level intel because he knew what he was going to say next was going to floor them both. Harry and B’Elanna had hunched forwards whispering between themselves, theories swam about, and questions were thrown. What could Admiral Montgomery gain from targeting their captain? Why had the Maquis crew had been so easily forgotten? Why had he stormed out? A thousand and one questions but that was all to cease rather quickly.

“And I saw Chakotay getting rather intimate with Seven outside his room, a little while after we materialised in the Alpha quadrant.” He waited the allotted few seconds, inspecting his nails closely

“Well…by intimate I mean kissing, and by kissing, I mean a full session, but I digress.” He arched a brow, adopted an air of nonchalance “So, Harry, what were you saying about Admiral Montgomery?” _Point set and match_ Tom thought to himself as he watched their mouths drop and their faces contort into confusion and shock, there was a moment of silence. It was deep, thick, and heavy.

“That’s not right,” Harry whispered. B’Elanna was now on her feet, her hands-on Tom’s shoulders, firing question after question, her grip tightening in succession, he was sure to have bruises later, just as he was confident that he had broken Harry. His friend was still muttering to himself, almost in chant, or perhaps it was in prayer. The mood between the three of them was a stark contrast to the rest of the room, which was alive, raucous with chatter and laughter, and distantly someone uncorked a champagne bottle. “That’s not right.” Harry offered again, at a slightly higher register; he was slowly shaking his head from side to side _at least he has regained use of his motor function,_ Tom mused. “That’s not how it is supposed to end.” Miral had woken up by this point and was fidgeting in the ensign’s arms, and he mindlessly rocked her.

“I assure you both, as I live and breathe, those two are an item.” B’Elanna had settled herself back into the chair only to jump up a moment later, she paced from Tom to Harry and then around Tom, stopping briefly in front of him. She willed her arms to her side, opening her mouth but thought better of it and clamped it shut again, only to begin pacing once more.  
“He never wanted her on board in the first place.” Words bursting from her lips as she lifted a finger “They barely interacted with each other.” A second digit joined the first “I mean, they were civil to each other at best.” She held up three fingers, waving them between Tom and Harry as evidence.

“Well, they had that mission together.”

“Harry you and I have had missions together. Tuvok and Neelix have had missions together. The Delaney sisters with Mason and Eriksson have had missions together. Singular missions, one-offs. They don’t foster love nor romance. Not after seven years of -” she paused, lost “Do they?” No one offered an answer; matters of the heart were fickle and mercurial to even the poets and philosophers what they would know? B’Elanna reflected on her relationship, and it was years in the making, it was symbiosis, built on shared experiences, it grew in the dark, parasitic, and unknown until it could not be ignored. They were always in each other presence; they had gone through all the phases of friendship in as many years. Yet it did only take a moment, a single spark. Perhaps this is what they were witnessing, an extraordinary moment, a rare occurrence. That one in a billion. “We don’t know.” Both Harry and Tom fixed their focus on her “Till the old man says something.” She eyed them thoughtfully “We do not know. And when he does tell us, we will be supportive.” She took a deep breath in “We will be happy” she punctuated the word happy, willing it to life, forcing it to fruition. “And we will be there for the captain.” Her resolve at her last statement brought a nod of determination from Harry.

“And we will not commit murder” Tom offered quietly, pointedly staring at B’Elanna.

“Right.” She acquiesced “No murder.”


	3. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janeway is reunited with her mother, B'Elanna with her father and Chakotay and Seven come to terms with being in the alpha quadrant,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always imagined that Janeway's reunion with her mother and sister would be emotional, not so much happy tears as you'd expect because she had spent such an inordinate amount of time having to be strong, steady and reliable. And since these are the only people she has never had to actively defend i can imagine them being the only ones she is truly vulnerable with. I also wanted to focus on her transition from Janeway to Kathryn, and slowly how she reclaims that aspect of herself with the people around her. I hope you enjoy.

# Reunions

* * *

Janeway had been hugged and kissed by nearly every mother but her own, all of them with thanks spilling from their lips. She caught a brief glimpse at the familiar figure of her mother towards the rear of the hall, entering another room, she just needed to wade through the crowd. Gone. The group had closed in on her, irritation and disappointment briefly surfaced, then there was a hand at her back “Excuse me, but I must steal Kathryn.” She knew that voice, it may have been seven years, but she knew that voice like she knew own.

“Phoebe!” Janeway was encompassed in arms and her face buried in her sister’s chest “Damn, I hate how tall you are.” Even in heels, Janeway barely came up to the woman’s shoulders.

“It’s okay shrimp.” She laughed, a rich deep laugh that she hadn’t thought was still capable of, as much as she hated that nickname it was good to hear it and with the laughter a tight sensation in her chest. The years apart had not dulled Phoebe’s instinct to her sister, grey eyes scrutinised blue, and she recognised the micro expression of pain that flitted across Kathryn’s face. Soon she was expertly navigating them both to the back of the hall, quick-stepping multiple people until she had safely reached the confines of the next room. Phoebe made short work of depositing her sister into their mother’s awaiting arms, before promptly shutting the dark oaken doors. Janeway stared into the blue of her mother’s eyes, and once safe in the knowledge that she was free from prying eyes, Captain Janeway let her mask fall.

Her legs buckled beneath her and her sobs erupted in harsh gasps. She hadn’t cried like this in decades, not since the dark months following her father and Justin. It was uninhibited and endless, as she was struggling to breathe, she felt herself being ushered upwards and vaguely heard her mother call for Phoebe to open the balcony doors. She was in sensory overload, from her sister’s voice to her mother’s arms, then came the cool touch of bench and air on her skin, but there was something else. The distinct scent of orange blossoms, Kathryn shut her eyes firmly willing a long-dead memory to life, snuggling deeper into the scent. _No,_ she thought, not just orange blossom, orange blossom, and jasmine. Kathryn remembered that scent wafting throughout the house as a child, strongest in her mother’s study, where she would retreat with her books, home. This was the scent of safety; through bleary eyes, she saw her sister close the balcony doors.

“We know how much you hate making a scene, Katie, so we requested a private room before the banquet.” Phoebe proffered her a wink. “Perks” She was attempting to lighten the mood and Janeway was glad for it, even if she could not quite appreciate it in the moment.

“And we wanted you all to ourselves. We deserve it” Her mother’s rich voice echoed by her ear, and she placed kisses along her daughter’s hair. In her distress, Janeway had failed to realise she was still wrapped in her mother’s arms, her head on her shoulder, now seated. Phoebe took her place on Kathryn’s right, resting her head against her big sisters, weaving their fingers together, the three of them wrapped in each other’s arms staring at the setting sun. They didn’t need words, whatever they could say would never be enough. 

“I thought I’d die out there.” Kathryn whispered “I could not allow myself to verbalise it. I had to be so strong all the time, so self-assured, decisive. I had to ensure that I would get us home. I could be nothing other than Captain out there.” She gulped back another choking breath “In the end, and I felt so alone.” Her voice was quiet and small, a stark contrast to the captains’ facade she had perfected, both her mother and sister exchanged a worried look. “But it had to be that way, you see. It was the only way I could get us home. I thought I’d die out there.” It felt good, to be honest. She hadn’t done that in a long time, and there was no one she could fully open too, not when so much hung in the balance.

“It’s alright, Kathryn, you came home.” Her mother implored, grabbing her daughter’s face between her hands trying to pull her out of her reverie “Kathryn, darling girl. You are home.” _Kathryn,_ how long has it been since someone called her that? She can’t remember. Chakotay used to call her that he was the only one, he stopped. _When did he stop? _She wondered. 

“No one has called me that in a very long time.” She whispered.

All the dams had broken; every single wall Captain Janeway had put up over the last seven years came shivering to collapse. “I miss my name. I don’t know who I -” Gretchen Janeway cut her off, pulling her eldest daughter deeper into her arms, barely catching the sound of her second youngest daughter releasing a heartbroken gasp.

* * *

“Stop fidgeting you’re worse than a child” B’Elanna slapped Harry’s hand away from his bow tie.

“I don’t understand what’s taking so long.” 

“The captain has to meet with her family first.”

“The Captain left for the hall over 4 hours ago.”

“And other family members of the crew are still arriving Harry. There’s over 150 of us, the welcome banquet isn’t going anywhere” she slapped his hands again “Stop fussing.”

“Not to mention the infamous Starfleet red tape.” Paris called over his shoulder “Something I certainly do not miss.” Aside from Paris and the Captain, every other crew member had been explicitly told that they could not leave the ship and would not be permitted to see their families until the banquet, after several years of waiting you’d think they’d be used to it. Still, Harry Kim was a nervous wreck, knowing that they were all a transport away from family. Truth be told B’Elanna was thankful for Harry’s fidgeting, she didn’t know what awaited her when they entered the hall.

_“Please make your way to the transporter room in an orderly fashion.”_

“Showtime,” B’Elanna called. “Let’s get this over and done with.” They materialised in a large hall. Where ornate flags of every federation member planet billowed above their heads and a crystal chandelier hung in the centre of the room casting flickers of lights, it was almost magical. Everything was so ornate and grand, with the high-rise windows that ran across the walls, giving a perfect view of San Francisco the ambience completed as music seeped into every corner, and B’Elanna was suddenly nervous. However, she would never admit to such a contrite emotion out loud. She felt Tom’s hands settle on the small of her back before pointing out his parents, she strode decisively towards them step faulting for brief second as her father came into view. _Daddy._ She pushed that thought down. He looked so old, so human. She remembered as a child she thought him a god, this huge hunkering impenetrable force and now his jet-black hair had greyed, and lines framed his eyes and mouth, there was no doubt he was healthy for his age. John Torres was an exemplar specimen of health he had just aged, and she hadn’t been there to see it, but she supposed he hadn’t been there to her grow into the woman she was now, married with a daughter. Miral decided it was at that exact moment that she should let her discomfort be known, she fussed and fidgeted in her mothers’ arms. “May I?” B’Elanna nodded and handed her daughter to him, scrutinising his reaction. “My she’s beautiful. Miral how I wish your namesake could be here to hold you.”

“How did she die?” She could feel Tom tense beside her, and there was no small talk amongst Klingon’s, that was an entirely human preoccupation. John Torres eyed his daughter sadly and handed the child back to Tom, stopping briefly to stroke her little cheek before gesturing for B’Elanna to follow him. They would talk in private. She nodded quickly at Tom and followed him, a few years ago she would have demanded that he answer her question there and then, a rueful smile settled on her lips, a few years ago she wouldn’t even have had anything to do with federation yet here she was.

“I do not know much.” He confessed. “Your mother and I didn’t remain” he paused again considering the wording “All I know is that she decided to undertake a spiritual Klingon Ritual and never returned.” B’Elanna’s shoulder straightened slightly, disappointment evident. “Though I was told to tell you that a Commander Logt wishes to speak with you, it is with regards to your mother. She didn’t explain further. Perhaps she can answer your questions.” There was a brief pause before his hand reached out and settled on his daughter’s cheek, he handled her with the same care he had touched Miral “You are beautiful.”

* * *

Chakotay had not seen Captain Janeway since she had given her speech, he didn’t let his mind settle on that fact. He rarely allowed his mind settle on her for longer than what was necessary it seemed, there was never enough time to unpack all that came with Captain Janeway. As soon as he materialised in the hall he had been set upon by Sveta, she had all but knocked him down to the ground, and then the rest of his Maquis crew came into view and things took a bittersweet turn from there. They were buried deep in conversation when they were interrupted by an eruption of chatter, and everyone seemed to turn their attention to the front of the hall. There stood Seven of Nine in a deep red dress that swayed about her legs, and her hair let loose, flowing over her shoulders, pouted lips painted crimson. She had said that she wasn’t going to attend, had made her excuses, and disappeared to the medical bay, yet here she was on the arm of the doctor, strolling in, beauty incarnate. Their eyes briefly met, and before he had a chance to reciprocate with a smile, she had looked away. A crowd had begun to gather around both her and the doctor, and he could see her cheeks redden in intimidation. “You always did have a fondness for blondes.” She purposefully shucked her blonde hair behind her shoulder “It’s nice to know I played such an integral part in your sexual awakening. I see this as an honour.” At this, she beat her fist to her chest dramatically “That I could so affect your taste in women.” Chakotay shot her a withering glance, clearly unamused. As she raised her hands in surrender, he couldn’t help but pray that she and Tom never meet, the hall was far too small to handle that much chaotic energy. “No judgement here, she is beautiful. You always did have superb taste in women if I do say myself. Then again there was that incident with the Cardassian, but she was brunette so hardly my fault.” She tipped her head to the side, mirth bubbling forwards.

“You know I find myself missing you for seven years, and now suddenly, I cannot recall why.” Sveta punched his arm playfully.

“Maybe because I am the only one who can call you out.” Her rich voice countered “Well, me and Sekaya of course.”

He was about to make his way over to Seven to intervene when he caught the scent of vanilla and sandalwood waft by, it was heady and reminded him of something he could not quite place. It was frustratingly familiar and then a head of deep auburn quickly passed by his periphery. “My,” Sveta gasped in awe, clearly impressed “now that, that is also another beautiful woman.” Sveta let out a low whistle, none too shy about brazenly assessing the woman who had passed them both. Chakotay let out a deep chuckle, attention brought back to Sveta, glad to see that time had not watered down her personality, he drew his attention back to Seven.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” He could pick out the owner of that calm tone anywhere. “Seven isn’t used to all this attention. You know her story. I ask you to please give her a little time to adjust.” Janeway was wading through the crowd towards her charge with determination, and he could feel the annoyance rolling off her in waves.

“Excuse me, Sveta.” In a few short strides, he was almost by her side, near enough to catch her slip a comforting arm around Sevens waist and regard the crowd with a pleasant smile that didn’t quite match the steel behind her eyes. The group drew back. There was something there that was not to be trifled with, like an animal protecting her young, Chakotay winced a little. While he and the crew were used to that deathly glare of hers, he was confident that civilians were not, they began to scuttle off. Janeway, however, was not satisfied, slipping her arm from Seven’s waist to her back she steered the younger woman to the bar. She scrutinised the tray and was about to pick up two glasses of champagne before finally settling on one flute of champagne and one flute of juice. Chakotay smiled fondly as the older woman fussed over Seven, handing her the juice and offering her a crooked smile, _Spirits that woman had so many facets_ he mused. She could go from panther to kitten in mere seconds, and it astounded him how mercurial she could be. He finally joined them at the bar and settled himself beside the doctor, who was currently harking on the blatant disregard of privacy and personal space with regards to Seven.

“Seven, I’m so sorry,” he breathed out softly. “If you’d let me know that you had changed your mind about coming—”

“It’s quite all right, Commander,” the use of his title cut to the quick. “I changed my mind at the last minute. I had no wish to intrude upon your reunion with old friends.” Her eyes lingered on the slim, beautiful form of Sveta as she spoke. Spirits help him, and he would never understand women.

“Seven how could think that your presence would be an intrusion?” He questioned. The doctor looked ready to open his mouth in response, but it suddenly clamped shut, Janeway had accidentally spilt some of the drink on the doctor.

“Apologies.” her rich voice called. He did not miss the warning glance that she shot towards the doctor.

“Please excuse us.”

Janeway nodded gently, and Chakotay couldn’t place why this bothered him, he held her gaze a second longer before he was firmly but gently guiding Seven away from the bar, his hand on her elbow.

“Commander that was not necessary.” Her eyes were crystalline in the light. “I am grateful to both you and the Captain, but I will need to learn to fight my own battles. I will not cower behind my—” She closed her mouth, not finishing the sentence. He wondered what she was going to say. “My lover”? “My friend”? “My commanding officer”? He released his hold on her elbow.

“Seven -”

“Admiral Janeway said that you and I would get married in the future.” He smiled.

“You know, somehow that stuck in my mind.”

“But that was a future on _Voyager_. Not here.” _Not again, _he thought. Hadn’t they already had this conversation? The first time around it was due to the Admiral, and now, well he wasn’t sure what had brought about this turn of events. There was a familiar ache in his chest, yet it was not as sharp as it had been with– he has pulled away from that thought track as Seven implored on, her hands had settled on his forearm. “_Voyager_ was my collective. I knew I was safe there. I trusted all of you; I knew all of you. I could. . . I could try to learn to love. But all that’s changed. We’ve returned to Earth. I’m a—an oddity. I must learn to find my place again. I knew who I was on _Voyager._ Here, I have no idea.” _Damn it _He thought, she was right. Whatever future existed on _Voyager_ ceased to exist once the Admiral got involved, but that did not mean it was dead and buried. Not only that but she was not the only one needing to figure out where their place was, he too needed to settle, he could not sway in the wind like a wayward seed all his life.

He couldn’t help but think of the dramatic irony of it all. He had cared for three women on_ Voyager_—Seska, Janeway, and Seven of Nine. One a traitor, whose “yes” had never been real. The second a friend who had told him “no” gently and ever so sweetly, because they were together on _Voyager_. And the third was telling him “no” because they weren’t together on _Voyager_. It was kind of funny, in a painful way but he wasn’t going give up easily this time. He would fight, something he should have done with –

“Commander?” Seven’s questioning tone brought him back from the murky depths of dangerous waters.

How about we take things slow, nothing settled. We just see how we fare.” He said ruefully, chuckling despite his hurt. She frowned slightly.

“That seems acceptable, slow,” she said.

He wanted to kiss her, yet he could feel eyes from every corner of the room settle in their direction. Instead, he decided on the briefest of touches to her cheek. 

* * *

Kathryn watched Chakotay lead Seven away, briefly noting his hand on her arm and took a controlled breath in before settling her attention back to the doctor_. Self-sacrificial to the end aren’t you Janeway _she thought bitterly. It had been second nature, as soon as she saw the mass of people swarm her around her charge, she had found her feet ferrying her across the hall, shoulders squared, and eyes set. Her love for them both, her passion for all her crew always outweighed her own needs. It superseded everything even now back in the alpha quadrant. When the Admiral spoke of their marriage, Sevens death, and Chakotay’s death. Kathryn’s reaction wasn’t heartbreak at the loss of love but in their lives, the pang she felt as she realised, he was involved with seven came later, hours later after she was resolute. She had spent seven years living in smoke and mirrors with regards to Chakotay. Never did she think he would move on because she rarely allowed herself to think about him in that manner. She took him, and all that she felt and firmly placed it in a box marked friendship, yellow taped, and klaxons attached. But hearing and now seeing it, she felt the stirrings of jealousy, regret, anger all shimmer to life. Taking a sip of champagne, she attempted to drown them, what was done was done, actions had consequences, and at the end of the day, the Earth still spins on its axis.

_Maybe I’ll get a dog_ she settled her glass down and walked towards a throng of people near the banquet table.


	4. Surreptitious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kathryn stumbles upon a scene she wasn't quite prepared for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so 'according to an okudagram shown in "The Killing Game", Janeway was born in 2344, meaning she was only twenty-seven in 2371, when she took command of the USS Voyager, in comparison to the real age of actress Kate Mulgrew, who was thirty-nine when she took the role. The best approximate reference from dialogue for determining her age could be taken from her statement of not having played tennis since high school, nineteen years prior to 2373. Assuming the average high schooler's age, ranging from fourteen to eighteen, this offers a potential range for dates of birth and ages to be approximately 2336 (age thirty-seven) to 2340 (age thirty-three), still several years younger than Mulgrew herself.' 
> 
> Hope everyone is okay with me sticking to this narrative with regards to Janeway's age, she is late 30s on arrival, I will be using the data instead of the actor's, Mulgrew's age, just for continuity.

# Surreptitious

* * *

The welcome banquet was drawing to a close. Phoebe and Gretchen had left a couple of hours beforehand, they had wanted to stay, but on Kathryn's insistence, they had gone with the promise that if it all became too much, she would transport to Indiana or directly to Phoebe's. She supposed she should have insisted they stay with her, that would have been the sensible thing to do, but years of wading through adversity alone meant that while the initial breakdown was natural, the follow-through was not. If Kathryn was honest with herself, she felt guilty. Her homecoming should have been a celebration, Kathryn had envisioned it a thousand different ways. In none of those scenarios did she ever crumble to the floor in desolation, feeling exposed, raw and childlike. Kathryn felt as if the joyous moment had been stolen from her sister and mother. She had always been prone to excess, she felt in excess, worked to excess, battled to excess and these were qualities that served her well, but her penchant for being all or nothing meant that when she hit nothing, she hit it hard. Like the creeping depression that threatened her in the void, it was Chakotay that had helped claw her back from that. She sighed; that was nothing in comparison to what she had been like when her father had died. No one aside from her immediate family and Admiral Paris knew how far she had fallen, four months in bed clutching on to one of his uniforms, sleeping her days away. Rarely stepping out of the confines of her room and when she did, it would be to sit in her father's chair in their library. She can't quite remember what she did, memories of staring at the old oak tree through the window shimmered to life, but mainly she just existed, a living husk. It had been Phoebe that dragged her out of that dark chasm.

Coldwater_ cascaded from above soaking through her bedding, clothes, shocking her to life. She leapt from the bed, hair soaked, and eyes were blazing. Phoebe forced her into the shower and slammed the door. "There's soap, shampoo, and water. The towel is on the rack, and when you're done lunch will be on the table." _

_"Will you leave me alone if I do this."_

_"Until tomorrow."_

_Kathryn sighed, her will to fight depleted. She wondered when she showered last, wondered when the last time was, she had left her bed. Phoebe said that it had been months, but it felt like days. After showering and eating she was dragged to the cornfields, the sun was the first thing she noticed. The light too bright, her eyes had become used to the darkness, they burned and watered in protest. She did not appreciate the forceful adjustment. Phoebe marched ahead, setting an unrelenting pace. Kathryn wanted to scream. She just wanted to be left alone, to disappear. _

_It was January, and the fields were barren, frozen over with ice. She couldn't maintain her balance on the ice-covered clods of dirt. Her body ached as muscles that had remained in stasis for months were violently brought to life. "Phoebe I'm done." _

_"No, you're not."_

_"What do you want from me!" Anger and resentment rose in her voice. "I'm sorry I haven't bounced back according to your schedule. I'm sorry I am not prancing around. Justin is dead! Daddy's dead."_

_"He was my father too! He was Mum's husband! Do you think you're the only one in pain? Yes, you lost two people who you loved dearly, but you do not have the monopoly on grief Kathryn. What you're doing it is not grieving. This is not grief. You're wallowing in this-" Phoebe paused her anger rising "We can't grieve if we're worried about you. Mum can't mourn Kathryn. You've slept the months away; we care about you, and I am done. I am not taking it any longer!" _

_"What am I going to do?" It was barely a whisper._

_"You're going to get up, you're going to face life, and if it hurts for a while, it's just going to have to hurt. That's the only way you're going to get better."_

_Kathryn fell to her knees, spent. The reality of her sisters' words washing over her, Phoebe was right. Kathryn couldn't do this anymore; but the misery ran deep within her, she suddenly felt cold and nauseous. Her arms encircled her stomach, and she hunched forwards retching the remnants of lunch onto the ground, a painful wail escaped her lips, echoing across the fields. She couldn't breathe; she felt her sister kneel beside her and bundle her close to her chest._

_"I know you hate me right now for pushing you like this. Hate me all you like. But I am here. You are not alone, Kathryn. I am right here."_

_Kathryn squeezed her eyes shut; she couldn't take any more of the winter sun, the frigid air and the ice in her heart, she grabbed her sisters' hands and held on tightly, anchoring her to safety._

She remembered her sisters' words, recalled how much pain she had caused them both, with her slow descent into depression, she hated that aspect of her personality, the extreme nature of her being. When she was high, she was soaring, and when she was low, it was unfathomable. She did not want to put them through that again; she would not, so she had sent them home with the knowledge that older and wiser she would be fine.

As she bade the last of her farewells thoughts turned to her XO, she had not spoken to him all night, not that she expected to. At some point during their last year of travels, the command team had been pulled many contradicting directions and by such force that she did not know where they stood. Comrades they were, brothers in arms that she was sure of, they had a bond forged in blood, sweat, and tears. Friendship? Yes, that existed, but as to the extent that friendship delved, she was no longer aware, the lines blurred with him. She blamed no one, not even herself for their lapse in contact, how could she? It's_ different out there_, she thought light years away from anything. Herewith her feet planted firmly on terra firma, and with the gift of hindsight, she could see clearly. There were things she should have done, paths taken, words said. However, out there, in that tremendous dark expanse with the ship, morals and consciences firmly dug around their throats, they had been fractured. She had grown up out there, over nebula's and stardust, transitioning from wide-eyed and green-thumbed to adult. Wise beyond her years, hardened too soon for the 36 years that made up her being _I feel as old as space _she remembered her father uttering those words, he would stride through the doors suited and booted and grab her and Phoebe, simultaneously lifting them both to his eye line. _As old as space, my little Golden bird._ Without fault, after every mission, the same routine and she would giggle relentlessly, reprimanding him, he couldn't feel as old as space, you cannot quantify space she would tell him assuredly. Yet there she was, she surpassed space, and now she felt as old as the universe.

She had just finished speaking with Harry Kim and his parents and was now searching for Admiral Paris and his family, a quick scan of the hall revealed the were not present, that probably meant the transport room. She made her way to the room, waving and smiling pleasantly at those that passed and as the doors to the room opened her step faltered. Seven against Chakotay, one of his hands placed on the small of her back edging her closer to him while the other lay splayed across the side of her neck, thumb caressing the skin. His eyes were closed, he looked serene, and she heard him sigh in contentment. Nothing worked, all higher cognitive function had stopped.

"Captain!"

* * *

B'Elanna was looking for the Captain, they had walked her father to the entrance of the building, he wasn't all that fond of transporters, and when they returned to the hall, she was gone. With Miral cooing delightfully in her arms, she wandered about the grand corridor searching for the transport room. Silently she hoped that she hadn't missed her chance to say goodbye to the woman she held with such high regard; her thoughts were promptly interrupted as she nearly collided with a body. B'Elanna felt her hackles rise, anger flaring to life, her mouth primed and ready to release an onslaught on insults, wondering what sort of idiot stands by the entranceway blocking people's exit and entrance like some sort of brainless Ha'DIbaH. As she steadied herself, she found herself staring onto the familiar back of her Captain, and she followed her captains' line of sight.

"Hu'tegh" she muttered.

"Damn is right." She had forgotten that Tom had been close behind her

Their Captain was rigid, yet her face gave nothing away, to an onlooker it would appear as if she were nothing more than a shocked observer, surprised at having caught a couple in such an intimate act so publicly. However, Tom and B'Elanna had spent several years with that very same woman, attuned to her mannerisms, while they could not say that they had the same skill set as Chakotay with regards to their Captain, they were close behind.

"Captain!" Tom made sure his voice was loud enough to echo across the room as he wrapped his arm around the Captain's shoulders, effectively turning her away from the scene. B'Elanna placed herself firmly behind the captains back ensuring that when Tom turned to face them, she could use Miral as a distraction. The pair worked soundlessly, and in such perfect synchronicity that had it been any other time, they would have had too high five one another. "We've been looking everywhere for you." Tom launched into a monologue of the night's events, his arm never leaving their captains shoulders he had rather bravely pressed her closer to him. B'Elanna could sense the relief wash over him when their Captain didn't push him away, and they both observed with cautious delight as the light returned to her eyes, the more Tom spoke. Never had B'Elanna been more thankful for having such a colourful husband, gifted with gab, able to cut the tension of a room effortlessly, but B'Elanna could not ignore the acid that was perforating in the pit of her stomach. She had been ambivalent to Seven when she joined the crew in the beginning. Still, slowly and surely the ambivalence had degenerated into annoyance, especially whenever she saw the Captain and Seven together. Tom once explained that what she had was a severe case of sibling rivalry.

According to Tom, B'Elanna viewed their Captain as a maternal figure, Janeway had been a staple in her life, the one adult who had been consistent, someone who had always championed her. In a childhood marred by disappointments and absent parents, Janeway had slotted herself rather comfortably into B'Elanna's life. Janeway was a pillar of strength, fiercely loyal and protective, something B'Elanna had striven for and craved.

She laughed at the memory, recalling how she had stormed out after Tom's revelation, but he had been right. At the beginning of their journey, the Captain would wander into engineering, and the two of them would fall into long winding conversations. They usually started with temporal mechanics and descended into warp core theorem, ending on something frightfully trivial, such as her Klingon romance novels. They would steal away to Sandrine's sometimes for a drink or a game of pool, but as the journey grew on it lessened, which was to be expected given the stresses, yet the Captain still made time to wander into engineering. However, by the time Seven arrived most of Janeway's time had been sapped, she was either on deck, fighting something, saving someone, or trying to instil the wonder of humanity into the ex-Borg. She supposed she was jealous and always had been, it was childish and petty but she remembered thinking _'I had been there first'_. Though that didn't lessen the fierce protectiveness B'Elanna had for their Captain, and right now she could see that her Captain was hurting, though she was not naive enough to think this was all surrounding Chakotay. B'Elanna suspected their Captain had slowly been collecting microscopic wounds these last several years. Every decision a nick to the skin, some deeper than others but all drew blood, and she had been haphazardly slapping band-aids on them with the promise that she would address the wounds later, but never did. Now they were home, the scars were gangrenous and weeping, and she did not know where to start, because for the first time in her life nothing was pulling their Captain's attention away from herself.

"Here, Captain. You have yet to hold Miral properly." B'elanna slipped the cooing child into her Captains arms not waiting for her to decline. Miral briefly fussed at being moved but settled quickly enough, her brown eyes were wide and blinking, acclimatising to the light of the room and colours that danced in front of her.

"Kathryn." Their Captain acquiesced "You are no longer under my command."

B'Elanna watched as Tom beamed, he had been itching to call her by her name for years, longing for the years of old. She knew that he and Kathryn had a brief history, he confided long ago that he wasn't the most well-behaved child, which quite frankly would shock no one. He had barely been interested in his father's work and was irritated by his subordinates; however, he did recall having a fondness for one of his dad's ensigns. Tom relayed that there was one ensign, barely out of her teens who interned under his father, she would often come to the house, arms filled to the brim with research equipment, manifestos, and ship plans. He liked her; _'she__ was the only one I did not prank', _he had stated rather proudly. When B'Elanna had enquired as to why his answer had been short and simple. '_She never treated me like a pest_.' Instead, she answered all his questions, even when they were bordering on inane and would always arrive with a tupperware box full of baked goods, claiming them part of her mid-work snack, yet would somehow, conveniently, she would forget the box and its contents.

B'Elanna sighed, Kathryn had always possessed a nurturing spirit, she was used to caring and not so much being cared for. Command had always separated them from a pure friendship, one without any barriers, yet she still managed to coax her way in, even if it was just a little and now B'Elanna could repay her for the years she had spent fighting for them all. As she fondly watched her captain press a kiss on her daughters' cheek, she made a vow to the woman who was her mother in all but DNA. She would be to Kathryn what Kathryn had been to her, a pillar of strength.

"It was worth it for you," Janeway whispered. "If I ever forget, I will remember that we wouldn't have you." She continued whispering sweet words while rocking Miral gently, Tom had since released the Captain from his grasp and found his way toward her, settling his arm about her waist. She reciprocated in kind and stared fondly at the two people in the world. She would honestly say she would lay down her life for.

* * *

Janeway flung herself on her sofa.

She hadn't expected that. She had not expected to see her XO in the arms of her- her thoughts paused what could she say. What word could she offer, _charge_ her mind volunteered, she wished that she had been afforded more exposure. A vaccination of sorts, it would have made it so that when the virus hit, she wasn't compromised, she'd have been partially protected, why couldn't she have walked in on a prolonged hug? Or a caress of the hand, no, it had to be damned passionate goodbye kiss. The door had well and truly closed to that room, and perhaps this was advantageous, there was a semblance of hope that had still been burning when she thought of him, as ridiculous as it was. Laughable really, that she still held onto to embers. No, that it mattered now, they had been snuffed out the moment she saw them in each other's arms, cold water to an already weakened flame. She barely remembers reacting outwardly, but she did recall the internal reaction, the pain that started in her chest, and radiated towards her throat, choking her slightly. However, it was at that moment she remembered Phoebe words "You're_ going to get up, you're going to face life, and if it hurts for a while, it's just going to have to hurt." _No sooner had her brain started processing that pain, registered those words, she found herself spiralled away, facing a beaming B'Elanna who promptly deposited the infant in her arms as Tom prattled on, arm gently draped over her shoulder. Then there was nothing but the soft sighs Miral released to the backdrop of Tom's voice. It was peaceful.

At some point Chakotay and Seven had cottoned on to the fact that they weren't alone, but if Kathryn was honest it shouldn't have taken long, Tom was practically singing out a concerto in falsetto with the pitch he was speaking in. Initially, she didn't bother looking up to acknowledge their presence, she could feel their eyes on her, and she wasn't sure she could muster strength that quickly, but at some point, she had lifted her head and acknowledged them both. Ensuring her brightest smile was adorning her face, she asked them of their plans. Seven was to stay with her aunt Irene and Chakotay was to go to Trebus to catch up with his sister. Kathryn recalled Chakotay's shocked face, paired with the highly arched brow raise from Seven when after depositing Miral back into Tom's arms she grabbed both of their hands and pressed a kiss to each—laughing as she balanced on her toes to reach them, firmly ignoring the infiltration of heat that quickened her pulse as she brushed her lips over Chakotay's cheek. She supposed they were shocked to see her so free in her display of affection, but there was no need for protocol now, though she was still a Captain, she wasn't their Captain and she was free to do as she pleased. What she wanted now was peace and to have them as her equals, as her friends. After insisting they keep in contact, telling them she would miss them and thanking them for their years of service and friendship, she brought Chakotay's hand to Seven's. Effectively conjoining them, that was the most challenging thing she had done that evening, and she was proud of herself. It was cathartic; she was effectively releasing him from promises past but more importantly, herself from the bitterness that would erode her soul. She briefly suspected that maybe it was that bitterness which had hardened the Admiral, having to hold onto so much unsaid that it tuned noxious within her soul. She then turned to place kisses on every member of the Paris family before transporting to what was now her home.

The apartment was a mash of her mother and her sister. On the kitchen counter-top, she could see a basket filled to the brim with chocolate, a variety of baked goods, coffee, and what appeared to be a naked male calendar, that would be Phoebe's doing. Though a cursory glance around the room saw that her sister had also taken the liberty of furnishing the apartment with artwork, to which she was thankful for. The flowers that seemed to adorn not only the kitchen counter-top but the coffee table and what she could glean of her bedroom, the vanity was entirely her mother as were the books that filled the bookcase. What caught her eyes though was the photo of her father by the bookshelf, the subsequent images of her family and it had appeared her mother had found the pictures that she had packed from _Voyager_, there were pictures of her crew neatly lined up. She walked towards the bookcase and was about to pick up one of herself, and she was clad in a Hawaiian dress when the door chimed.

"Come." She called, though she wasn't expecting anyone and aside from her mother and sister, no one knew she was here.


	5. Counterpoint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kathryn tells Phoebe about Kashyk and what really happened during the inspection.

# Counterpoint

* * *

Mark Johnson was standing in her doorway.

They stood for a moment staring at each other, neither one making a move nor a sound. "Can I come in?"

"In?" she stared at him a little longer "In! Right, yes. Mark, come in." ushering him as she stepped further into the hallway, attempting to soothe her frazzled nerves, she threw a brief gaze at the clock. It was 23.30, the day was not over, and it appeared the universe wasn't done with her yet, intent at throwing everything at her in a single 24 hours.

"You moth- "

"So Ho- "

They paused and eyed each. Janeway gestured for him to speak first.

"You have no idea how glad I am that you are safe and home" he opened his arms wide, allowing her the choice of whether she should accept, and she did. She walked up to him and settled her head on his chest, not missing the glint of gold that passed by her periphery as he moved to close the hug. Nothing. It was the absence of pain that was a shock to her, she knew he had gotten married and though she had dealt with its thousands of lights years away, accepted it, Janeway was confident that if the moment came and she ever did see him again, she'd feel something. Yet there was nothing. She pulled away from him and smiled. He looked happy, healthy, that was good. He was a sweet man, kind and gentle, something so far removed from the men of Starfleet.

"Coffee?"

"At this hour?" there was incredulous humour to his voice "No thanks, I just came to give something back." A bark echoed across her room and a cautious head poked from behind his leg, she dropped to her knees immediately.

"Oh, Molly!" her arms opened wide, but Molly cocked her head to the side, uncertain and looked up towards her master quizzically. Molly didn't remember her. Of course, she wouldn't, it had been seven years, a lifetime to the animal. She had ceased being her owner the moment she was lost. "I see you have abandoned ship." She joked as she brought herself upright.

"No, I'm just the sitter, she has always been yours."

Janeway shook her head slowly and regarded the setter as she plopped her rear firmly on the ground at Mark's heel, she was greying about the snout and had filled out quite a bit, it was to be expected, she was an old thing now. "Keep her. You have been her master these past seven years. No need to uproot her suddenly."

"Kathryn, that's ridiculous -." Mark stopped, she had set her chin, folded her arms, and held his gaze. He had known her long enough to know that there was to be no further discussion on the matter. "How about we chat instead." She nodded and waved him to the living room and watched as he settled himself on the sofa. Taking a seat next to him she let a slight breath out, they were an arms width apart, but it might as well have been the other side of the room. Her body was tense, and her back rigid, her fight or flight response was prepping the Adrenalin ready for a hasty departure.

The silence was uncomfortable, which was telling because Mark had always been one of the few people; she could never feel uncomfortable with. They had been friends long before they had been lovers. Kathryn wanted to laugh at that moment, somewhere along the way she had developed a habit of friending men, falling in love with them only to have them leave.

"Had I thought that there was any chance that you were still alive, I would have waited. I want you to know that." The silence must have been weighing heavy on his mind because Mark was speaking like a man possessed. Kathryn barely had time to register it all. His words were coming out fast and steady, his hands were clasped together tightly, brows knit in consternation, his apologies were heartfelt and sincere, and she could see him visibly shrink when he recalled the day, he got the news she was alive. Kathryn touched his shoulder, and it jolted him to a still.

"Mark there's nothing to forgive" she insisted, but he still could not meet her eyes "I cannot fault you. Honestly, I would have done the same."

"Would you?" his face was haunted, Kathryn recognised that look, it had been her steady companion all those years in the Delta quadrant, shame and guilt. "I wonder about that. You're far too stubborn. You probably would have taken a shuttle yourself and traipsed across the quadrants in search of me had the situation been reversed."

She gave him a wry smile "Probably, but out of the two of us, navigating deep space should probably be left to me, you get lost on your feet, even when armed with a map." Their banter was slowly cutting through the tension, and the awkward air was dissipating quickly, Molly had waddled over to Kathryn's leg and was sniffing her with interest. "But you're happy now?" her hand wandered to scratch the curious creature's head.

He nodded "Her name is Carla, she's wonderful as is Kevin."

"Kevin?"

"Our son." Mark smiled brightly "He's the absolute worst, tyrant of a toddler, but we adore him." Mark spent the next 20 minutes regaling Kathryn on his life, from how he had met Carla to the birth of their son and the monotony of parent-teacher meetings. "I would like for them both to meet you. We grew up together you and I and well, I always thought you were the sun, you commanded respect and admiration long before you had my love. I would say that it was the day we met. The day you defended my honour, I knew then that you would have my undying devotion and friendship. Do you remember?" Kathryn laughed; she did, indeed remember.

_"Don't go far!" the woman called._

_"I won't!" with arms out, she pretended she was walking the tight rope, her untamed red curls bouncing about her freckled face. She heard laughter coming up ahead and was about to turn left when crying joined the joyous sounds. Looking up from her imaginary rope, she saw a boy about the same age as her, pressing his head to his knees, shaking slightly with scuff marks on his clothes and grazes on his knees. Two older boys crowded him; they had in their hands his backpack, the contents of which were spread across the ground."_

_"Hey!" She called angrily. Once she had their attention, she started to sprint at full speed to the taller of the two, war cry emanating from her lips and arms out. She put her total weight behind her as she knocked him down "Knock it off." She may have been small, but she was fast, and when he made to grab for her, she had already landed a rather sound punch to his nose before scuttling off him. She placed herself firmly in front of the crying kid, hunched forward ready to attack, as they made their way to approach her, a deep growl echoed across the plains. A rather large, shaggy black dog with impossibly dark eyes came into view, hunched forward like its owner, lips pulled back, exposing white teeth that dripped with slobber as it snarled dangerously. The boys threw up their hands in surrender and took for the opposite direction, carelessly throwing the backpack behind them. Once she was sure it was safe, she knelt to the ground and packed up the contents of his bag before returning her attention to him. Teasing his head away from his knees, she began rubbing away the dirt and dust from his face and patting his clothes, satisfied with his appearance, and she shot him a lopsided grin._

_"Hi, I'm Kathryn" she shucked her head to the right in acknowledgement of her canine companion "He's Max. What's your name?" she asked, holding out her arm._

_"Mark." He took her hand, pulling himself up, attempting to quieten his sniffling. She was a couple of inches shorter than him with impossibly pale skin, littered with freckles and cheeks so rosy they looked as if they had been painted on._

_She still hadn't released his hand "Come With Me." He allowed her to drag him across the field "We're comrades in arms now." She stated it as if it were in fact as if she were telling him the sky was blue. "Know what that means?" she queried, they both waded through the barley, and she was creating enough momentum that her hair billowed behind her. Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she squeezed his hand in comfort "It means we're friends."_

Mark grabbed her hands "My dearest friend" Fresh tears sprung to his eyes "Welcome home."

* * *

Phoebe was on her sister's sofa with her feet in the air and head to the ground, watching her sister brew coffee. "So… You're bosom buddies?" Phoebe didn't know whether she should applaud her sister for her maturity and class or smack her across the head for her simple-mindedness. "Your ex-fiancé shows up." Phoebe had now flipped herself lengthways "And he's all… Hey there sorry, thought you were dead, here hold my kid, hug my wife, let's eat cake! And you just jump on the wagon."

Kathryn rolled her eyes "I didn't jump on any wagon."

"No, you fucking skipped there apparently." Kathryn shot her sister a warning look, but Phoebe had always been immune to her sister's wrath Kathryn suspected her younger sister sometimes took great pleasure seeing her come undone. "I would have thrown a decanter at his head and a couple of china plates for good measure."

"Phoebe."

"Don't Phoebe me. Fair enough he thought you were dead and yes, seven years is a long time. But to turn up and just" she waved her hands in a dramatic fashion "And just…I can't find the words. That's how bad it is. I am out of descriptors."

"I wasn't angry because Mark was never the one." Janeway relented. Phoebe's interest had peaked; she had long thought Mark was not quite right for her sister, their mother silently agreed. He was lovely, kind, and generous, he was normal. Everything about him was ordinary, and Kathryn had always been extraordinary. He was the opposite to her but damned if she was going to tell her sister she thought she was ill-fitted to her fiancé a second time around. Phoebe still recalled their caustic fight when Kathryn had introduced Justin and Phoebe learned he hadn't liked dogs. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

"Something he said the night he came to welcome me home. He said, '_I always thought you were the sun, you commanded my respect and admiration long before you had my love.' _She kicked Phoebe's legs forcing her to move as she settled the coffee cups on the table "I was his sun." she said it with such distaste that Phoebe wanted a laugh.

"And that's a bad thing? Christ, Kathryn for some people that's all they want."

"I don't want to be someone's sun. I don't want to pull someone into my gravitational field and have them hover around me with no will of their own, have my own will and need eclipse their wants and aspirations. Have them be nothing more than a shadow. Don't look at me like that." Kathryn settled further into the sofa "The gift of hindsight Phoebs. I know now that he would not challenge me if he thought I was wrong. He would comply; Mark would not stand there and tell me that I was unreasonable. Not like the way you, mum, and dad did" _the way Chakotay did _she added silently "And he was safe, the worst thing that could happen to him at work would be that he got a paper cut."

Phoebe audibly choked back a laugh, spitting out coffee in the process. "I think that's why I picked him. He wasn't like Justin, dad, or me. He was as far removed from Starfleet as possible, and I thought I wanted that. I thought I wanted safe, but I don't. I want someone who is going to stand at the recesses of the universe with me, peak over, and take my hand and jump. I would want them to fight me if I was unreasonable, have my back." She sighed, and Phoebe caught the flickering of an indiscriminate emotion on her sister's face "I don't want to be someone's sun" there was resolve in her eyes "I want to equal him as he equals me. Does that make sense?" She drew a symbol lazily in the air "Like infinity. Where he starts and where he ends is tantamount to me."

"Christ, Kathryn."

"I have known Mark my whole life. We slipped in and out of friendship. The first time I met him, I saved him from a couple of bullies, and we had an easy-going friendship. Then we drifted apart, and I forgot about him." Kathryn laughed "I was awful to him as a teenager. I was awful, in general."

Phoebe nodded her head in agreement. Kathryn got into trouble most weeks. She would sneak out, stay out late and had a tendency to ruffle feathers with most people she met. She had an air of entitlement, derived from being an Admials daughter, natural brilliance and exploratory nature. All that paired with a surge of teenage hormones meant that she was, for a better part of the word, unbearable. It was impossible to fight with her, as she usually implored logic.

Not that Phoebe didn't try and not that she thought she was any better. Where Kathryn was logical and dismissive, she was careless and blunt, two sides of the same coin. It meant that as teenagers and young adults, they rarely ever got along. It was a fine line between love and hate with them, a time-old tale of sibling rivalry, Kathryn was their father's _Goldenbird,_ she excelled at most things she did and wanted to follow in their fathers' footsteps. While Phoebe, in contrast, was free-spirited and directionless, in her parents' eyes, with a capricious nature. It wasn't that she was directionless per se, just that unlike her sister Phoebe hadn't settled on career aged fourteen. Looking back at it now, she has been quite the average teenager; it was Kathryn that had been the oddball.

Phoebe recalled one incident where Kathryn had gotten lost in a storm because she lost a tennis match. Kathryn never could handle failure well. It spiralled her downwards, and their father had found her, mud-soaked and frozen to the bone. She remembered sneaking out to watch; as much as they'd annoyed one another, they loved each other, and she had been worried past the point of sleeping. From her hiding spot, she watched their dad tuck Kathryn into bed and after a brief peek into Kathryn's bedroom, to make sure she was alright Phoebe sat at the top of the stairs. With her head between the stair railings, she listened to their dad regale events to their mother_. _

_"And when I found her, she was sat atop of her tennis bag, rain beating down on her, deep in thought and lost to the world. As I picked her up, she just looked up at me and smiled." She watched as he tiredly ran a hand through his hair, a wry smile on his lips. "She had worked out the solution to the derivation of the distance formula problem I had given her." He shook his head in wonder "Gretchen, out there amongst the chaos she had worked it out._

_"Darling, have you not noticed how prone to fits of melancholy she is? Especially when things go wrong. She lost a tennis match!" her mother's voice was laced with scepticism, "And she wandered home, out there in the storm believing she was unworthy of walking alongside her teammates because she lost a match. The level of perfection she feels she needs to attain, the responsibility she feels. For someone so young, it frightens me, Edward. As brilliant as she is, there is a frailty there."_

_"But she is brilliant, and that frailty will be her strength one day. That refusal to be beaten, Gretchen that cannot be taught."_

It was challenging to compete with. This animosity led to fantastic fights, heated things that continued well into her teens and Kathryn's early twenties, the last battle they had, had been about Justin. Phoebe had found that after their father passed and after the depression had receded, Kathryn was less dismissive. She was resolved without being insensitive and held emotion with equal importance to logic, it allowed them to grow closer.

Since her return, Phoebe had found yet another change. Their arguments now ended in a calm manner, whereas before it would have devolved into chaos, Kathryn now considered her sisters' opinions openly and took her time when replying. There had been plenty of moments since her return, where they had disagreed, they were sisters after all. Times Phoebe had lost her temper, most recently it was regarding Kathryn's insistence on returning to work. The original plan had been a year's leave, and now after a few months, her sister wanted back in. Phoebe recalled pacing, swearing, and ranting, and all the while Kathryn had sat quietly. Patiently listening to her air out her grievances, offering a rebuttal, very gently every now and again. In the end, they had settled on a compromise, Kathryn would check bi-monthly, and if it got too stressful, her sister could intervene. It hadn't been what Phoebe was expecting. She had planned to go toe to toe with her big sister and be locked in an hour-long battle of who could out stubborn the other.

"It's funny. I liked him as a child and hated him as a teenager. He went by Hobbes by then, did I ever tell you that? "she asked, Phoebe, shook her head "I didn't put two and two together when we met again, I didn't know his first name was Mark or that he was the 'Mark' of my childhood. I thought him a pest. He was awkward, wiry and clumsy." She laughed "I was so dismissive and vain, I didn't think him attractive, and he preferred to stay in and read than go out and explore. Not to mention that I was too busy falling in love with boys like Cheb."

Phoebe groaned, Cheb was awful from what she could recall, handsome as sin, but his personality left little to be desired. He was a topic of great discussion, especially with regards to how he had broken Kathryn's heart, he blamed her for not getting into Starfleet. That much Phoebe knew, as to what it was he had said when they were out there alone? That remained unknown.

Only that Kathryn arrived home, prematurely that summer from a planned trip, she dropped her bags, hugged their mum, and silently went to her room to sleep. She didn't even complain the next day when she had found Phoebe on her PADD, that scenario almost always ended with the two of them screaming at one another. Their mother still having to pull them apart and their father watching the chaos with the signature Janeway smirk. One of them would stomp to their room and the other to the cornfields. Phoebe recalls Kathryn quietly sighing before affectionately ruffling her hair and grabbing a coffee.

"Mark was always so sweet and patient, no matter how many times I swatted him away with my acidic tongue. I had saved his life twice by the time I was 18." She sighed in contemplation "It wasn't until I was due to go on that deep space mission that we reconnected, it wasn't loved at first sight Phoebs, I don't even know if it was love at all, it was not whole encompassing type, it was safe. Dad was dead, Justin was dead, and Mark had been a constant in a world where everything had changed. I was scared, I suppose."

Phoebe didn't know how to respond, and her sister seemed sincere, raw, and honest, it was new territory. As close as they had gotten over the years, Kathryn had stopped being forthcoming after their father had died, she assumed the role of protector in the family, taking up the helm for their father, wanting to be indestructible. She had a horrible tendency of keeping things bottled. Phoebe wanted to lighten the mood a little, Kathryn looked so incredibly far away. "Why don't you also ask for intergalactic peace and cure to all diseases while you're at it." The exasperated sigh and laughter that followed meant success. With her sister deeply embedded in the sofa and herself still lying down, head on the armrest, feet perched atop Kathryn's lap, she began to wiggle her toes in silent contemplation "Did you find someone like that out there? I ask because that is a very concise list of wants. Too specific to be off the bat."

Janeway's silence answered for her. Her sister did not want to talk about it, _fair enough_ Phoebe thought, she would just have to steer the conversation to other matters.

"So, did you stay celibate all these years? You didn't do the Devil's tango once?" she wiggled eyebrows and got a quick smack on her thigh in return.

"There were two men I slept with."

"Thank god." She received another slap.

"One of them doesn't count because I was under a mind-altering device that- "she looked at her sister's horrified face "It's a story for another time and possibly with something stronger than coffee. The other is a little complicated."

"Oh, I do love complicated." Phoebe jumped up and disappeared into Kathryn's bedroom and returned with a blanket which she dumped rather unceremoniously on her sister's head, she then practically ran to the kitchen replacing with the French press and a box of cookies, she settled them on the table. Jumping back onto the sofa, she clothed herself, shoved a cookie in her mouth, and gestured for her sister to continue.

"His name was Kashyk."

"Interesting." Phoebe offered.

"He was a Devore inspector and a member of the imperium, an authoritarian government that controls 11-star systems across three sectors. They are an incredibly xenophobic class of race, well at least those in power are. They have a distaste for telepaths. When _Voyager_ was crossing Devore space, we were subject to inspections."

"That's how you met this Kashyk guy?" Kathryn nodded "What? Did he stride in, leather-clad, dressed in black? Eyes dark, brooding, and mysterious?" Kathryn's grimace caused Phoebe to clap her hands in childish joy "My sister!" she exclaimed "It's always the goodie two shoes that get hot and bothered for the bad boys. Always. Now, I was a rebel without a cause. Never needed the bad boys but you." She pointed an accusing finger at her sister "Little miss Daddy! I memorised the prime directive-"

"Are you going to let me finish?"

Phoebe nodded and reached for another cookie. "Yes, he was all those things, and there was the raw attraction, but he was intelligent, horrifically so, with a philosophic mind. Gods Phoebs his mind. We were smuggling telepaths across their space, and he was suspicious. He joined the ship under the guise of asylum. I think he planned to seduce me and get the intel and get out. But things got tangled along the way, and we genuinely did have an affection for one another, we were very similar. Five years out there and I was just as hardened and cunning as he was, more so in fact. He and I were opposing pieces in a chess match playing each other, dancing to the same symphony. One of us needed to gain a tactical advantage, and we weren't above using our attraction to one another. As underhanded as that may have been. We had found intel of a wormhole and had theorised we could use it to transport our stowaways, however, we didn't know where or when the next wormhole would show up. All the standard algorithms to ascertain their whereabouts were failing."

Janeway took another sip of her coffee, bittersweet smile on her lips "He liked Tchaikovsky. I would play music in my ready room whenever we had an inspection; it grounded me. He was there so often he developed a taste for the music. The evening we first slept together was the evening we figured out the next location of the next wormhole. The second movement of Tchaikovsky's symphony number four had been playing at the time, and it led me to consider the presence of a subspace counterpoint and how we could utilise that. It worked. He stayed a few more days as we made our way towards the wormhole; he was in my bed most of those days. He had what he wanted, though, the location of the wormhole, so he double-crossed me. Kathryn laughed, but it was void of any bitterness, instead of joyous triumph "Imagine that? He destroyed the wormhole. I remember the smug gleam of satisfaction he had, as he sat beside me, and the grim realisation when he cottoned on that I had outmanoeuvred him. I had been feeding him false information all the while; he never trusted me, and neither did I. In the end, we parted similar to how we met, with a thick, palpable tension."

Phoebe settled back into the sofa. There were no words. Kathryn's mind went back to the night Kashyk had asked her to join him in his room, she had initially turned him down but later that night returned under the guise of more work.

_Wrists roughly pinned above her, one on either side of her head, hair spread across the pillow and breath ragged, that's what she remembered. That and the maddeningly slow descent of lips from her throat to her nipple, where tongue tasted skin and hot breath teased. When he finally reached the stiff dusky peak, his teeth grazed over tender skin, testing the sensitivity. She refused to moan, to give him the satisfaction that this was what she needed, especially when he was so frustratingly restrained. He released her wrists and re-positioned them at her waist, pulling her underwear of inch by torturous inch maintaining eye contact. He looked primal, and she watched with joyous anticipation as he brought his fingers towards her lips, grazing the folds, before separating them so he could settle his fingers deep within her. Rhythmically manipulating her and she felt like a puppet, each movement elicited a gasp, a sigh, a caught breath. "I'm flattered." His arrogance was astounding. She rose and grabbed him by the back of his neck, pulling him towards her claiming his lips, it was game of dominance, and neither one wanted to lose. Lightly her nails trailed down his abdomen and fingers slipped into the waistband of his trousers, skimming over the skin. Her fingertips were ghosting across the head of his shaft, causing him to gasp and relent. She won. "You don't play fair Captain."_

_"I never said I was fair." She rasped, as his lips settled below her ear, her weakest point, and she murmured a sigh of contentment. While he distracted himself with her breasts and neck, she released his lower half from their clothed confines. Pressing him against her core delighting in the hiss he gave as their bodies made contact. He did not like the control she had over him, she could see it there in his darkened eyes, and he plunged without warning, she gasped. Pleasure and pain were indistinguishable at this point, and he began to move to a relentless beat, with a power that rendered her molten._

_"Just a little more" she found her fingers curling "There, don't stop." She demanded. His hips came to an abrupt halt._

_"Why did you stop?" the growl was unmistakable as was her discontent as he inched out of her._

_"Beg" he dipped his head, lowering his lips to meet hers before swerving at the last minute, lips settling at her ear nibbling the flesh._

_"I beg your pardon!"_

_"That's what I am trying to get you to do" he brushed her lips "Beg."_

_"I'm a captain. I do not beg" she captured his lower lip between her teeth, nipping it a touch harder than was necessary, not enough to draw blood but enough to injure. Unperturbed, he reacted in kind, nipping her jaw._

_"Well, I do not take orders" he countered, and to prove a point he snapped his hips up roughly, earning the desired grunt of pleasure that escaped her mouth._

_"It seems we are at an impasse" she sighed_

_"Seems so." _

_She waited for him to settle into a false sense of security, waited for his tenseness to ease when he rested his forehead against her own. She chose that moment to strike. She flipped them over. She was now on top, her hands over his shoulders pushing him down into the mattress. There was an unmistakable smirk of victory on her lips. She raised her hips slightly and guided him towards her entrance, allowing the tip to slip in, he groaned, and she leaned down for another demanding kiss. Remembering how he had so mercilessly plunged into her the first time around she pulled back. "My turn." And she took him, in one fluid motion, there was a snarl of satisfaction as his hands reached for her buttocks, nails digging into skin to control the speed, but Kathryn was having none of it. She was on a power high and wasn't about to let that go. She ground her hips and Kashyk began to lift his torso off the bed, his forehead settling between her breasts as his release built up. She could sense he was close and picked up the pace, with her orgasm nearing she wrapped her arms around his neck as her eyes rolled back. When they tumbled over the edge, it was such a violent attack of shudders, she had to push his body back into the bed and use him as an anchor to steady herself._

Kathryn sighed at memory the memory.

Always the dangerous ones.


	6. Observance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chakotay has spent the last several months on Trebus trying to quell the void and reflects on his relationship with Seven, whilst back on Earth the newly minted Admiral Janeway meets Captain Grey of the research ship Odysseus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to take a moment to say thank you to all of you leaving comments and Kudos' it is incredibly humbling to receive and knowing that you all are enjoying the story is such a relief. I hope to keep up the work and keep you all entertained.

# Observance

* * *

The sound of splintering wood reverberated through the air. Sekaya sat atop one of the trees calmly, watching her brother hard at work. When he first arrived, he was ecstatic; he had picked up their mother as if she were a bag of feathers and swung her around like a child, as she playfully slapped him on the chest, demanding release. He had feasted with the tribe elders, danced by the fire and sang to the stars, the following weeks he would drag Sekaya everywhere, from the forests to the hills and they would eat berries and nuts, drink the alcohol their mother brewed and talk for hours. Then the novelty of home wore off, and he was left with his thoughts, and it was clear that he did not care for them, for he was doing everything within his power to keep busy. He never stilled. He felled trees, logged wood, went hunting. From her vantage point, she could see that his current project was a canoe.

He had been working on it for the last two weeks, and when he wasn't home, he was at one of the multiple projects he had undertaken, spending his days in town slaving away only to come back and do the same. Only at peace when he slept, then he would be up by dawn working on the canoe until he left again. Wash, rinse, and repeat. Something was wrong. Something had been wrong for the last several months, not that anyone would have noticed. He feigned calm and content incredibly well, was all smiles and laughter. To the casual observer, he appeared happy, and his undertaking of multiple restoration projects was just an over-exuberance, nothing more. He was the prodigal son glad to be home, back with the tribe, settling back into life on Trebus.

She had had enough "Let's go!" she yelled, dropping to the ground. Sekaya neither waited for his reply nor checked to see if he followed, her tone implied that it was not a suggestion. He was by her side in a matter of seconds, eyebrows raised questioningly but remained silent as they made their way across the plains. The open landscape gradually transforming into the wilderness the farther they walked, the air got thick with moisture, and the scent of berries and pine twirled about. There was a comfortable silence that settled between them. As they got to the top of the falls, she peaked over, watching the water cascade down and swivelling on her heels eyed her brother mischievously "Dare you!"

Before he could even respond, she had stepped off the edge of the rock face, legs tucked, falling fast into the pool below. Chakotay laughed, it had been decades since they had done this and if memory serves, he used to be the one daring her to jump off. He leapt into the water, preferring a graceful dive to her unrefined cannonball. The cold water was a welcomed embrace on his skin, and for a moment, he let himself just float there under the water observing the ripples of sunlight on the surface. As he resurfaced, Sekaya swam circles around him, her laughter filling the space.

He felt better. Sekaya had fantastic instinct when it came to his moods, always knowing when to prod and when to settle but he supposed most siblings did. Ending on his back, he permitted his body to float freely, allowing the water to take him where it wanted, he could easily drift off had the threat of drowning not been a reality. He glanced over towards Sekaya, she had settled herself on the bank and was facing the sun, allowing the rays to dry her off. They had always been close, with her only being a year younger than him it was hardly surprising, he decided it was time to join her. He heaved himself onto the bank, settling against the warmed stones, sighing in contentment, but it was short-lived.

"You haven't said anything about the Borg," she stated. He turned his head to look at her, arms folded behind her head, eyes shut.

"Never were one to beat around the bush, were you?"

"It does not require many words to speak the truth." She retorted.

"Quoting e do da, nice." He grumbled."

"What can I say? The old man had good proverbs" she turned to face him "You couldn't stop talking about her when you arrived and the weeks that followed." Chakotay couldn't deny that he had been singing her praises the moment he landed. He grumbled under his breath, letting his own eyes close shut.

"It didn't work out." He stated cryptically.

"Hmm." She paused, wondering if she should continue probing "What about your Captain? Didn't you say she had been promoted to Admiral? Isn't there some sort of celebration that's happening back on Earth for that? And aren't you supposed to go back to discuss your commission and possible promotion?"

"She is, there is, and I am."

Her eyes fluttered open "Petulance is very unbecoming on you Chakotay." she continued to stare at him, willing him to open his eyes. She had long learned that when he wanted to, he could be incredibly stubborn, a trait inherited from their father.

"Listen. I'm tired. I have had seven years of being in constant action, and I just want peace and tranquillity. A chance to reflect."

"If you were exhausted brother, you would be up in the hut with ii getting fat on nuts, fruit, and bread. You'd be drinking with our people by the fires, telling stories to the little ones and dancing till dawn, as it stands you have not been doing that. It started that way, but it wasn't enough." She prodded his chest roughly "That hole, whether the Borg has left it or not is not going to be filled here."

"Sekkie" he growled in warning.

"No Chakotay, you haven't even visited the memorial. You're angry, and you're running."

"I'm not running from anything."

"But you are angry," she stated. Huffing when he didn't reply, she knew the conversation was not going to progress any further while he was in this state. "Even the eagle tires Chakotay." with that she pressed a kiss to his temple before righting herself up, dusting off her body. "I will see you back at home." The sound of her feet on the rocks gradually faded away, leaving the gurgling sighs of the water, crickets, and birds. The heat was unbearable, and the sun seemed impossibly high, but he couldn't seem to summon up the strength to seek shelter, he stayed where he was, accepting the harsh beating of sunlight.

When they were out there, lost amongst the stars, it was difficult to remember that actions had consequences because there was never a moment to spare. As soon as one disastrous affair ended, two more came hurtling towards them from opposite directions, and now back, the sounds of klaxons no longer normality. Chakotay was finding it challenging to reacquaint himself with what was now his reality. He felt lost. His relationship with Seven was impulsive, and a little out of left field, but she had been sincere, and he had been slipping into his darkness. Her clumsy attempts at romance may have saved him from something darker that bubbled beneath his consciousness, had they stayed lost to the quadrants, there could have been a future. Here in the Alpha quadrant, however, they were light-years apart, _Voyager _was their commonplace, with that gone they had little in common with one another, and he unintentionally slipped into the role of mentor. The last six months had seen them attempt to forge forwards in their relationship, no one could ever accuse of them of not trying, he would visit her, and she would visit him, it was enjoyable. She was intelligent, beautiful, and awkwardly endearing and the physicality of the relationship was everything he could have desired, but there was something off. Somehow something was missing. He felt off-kilter at first; he thought it was due to their experience. Where he was wise and wary to the world, she was a stumbling calf, trying to maintain balance, eyes wide to the world. It was shiny, beautiful, and new, and she had no experiences outside of _Voyager _of family, community, or even humanity.

Then as the months drew on, he knew it was more, there was a void deep in his spirit that he could not reach, not by Seven, his mother nor his sister. Sekaya was right, there was an emptiness in him, but he did not know from where it stemmed, and with little knowledge on how to address the issue, he tried deflection. He found that physical work distracted him best; the exhaustion meant his mind could not muster the energy to wonder what it was the disconcerted his spirit.

Was he angry? He hadn't thought about it, and he did not have anything to be mad about as far as he was concerned. His breathing settled to a steady, comforting rhythm, deep inhalations, and exhalations, willing his mind to calm and for the barriers to fall. He would figure this out here and now or wither on this rock. Then he felt it, the wave of anger that bubbled from deep in the crevices of his bones, he wondered how long it had been there. How much outrage evaded had evaded his consciousness, it had been buried to such depths it appeared it belonged.

He leaned into the anger, and his consciousness promptly began its memory recall. Slithers of the last year on_ Voyager_ flickered to life. He remembered images of his time in Quarra burst forwards. He was forced to drag Kathryn out of her perfect reverie to a hostile reality, returning her to the position of Captain. The guilt. The unbearable guilt that weighed on his shoulders as he returned her to them, she had been happy down there, carefree and he could visibly see her joints stiffen as her memories came back to her. The light in her eyes darken to barely an ember as she recalled who she was and what her duty was. Had he not promised to lighten her burdens? Yet there he was, returning them to her, gifts of poisoned apples. He had wanted to discuss the incident with her, and he suspected she did too, but they never did. Instead, they did what they did best, they packed it up and carried on, never realising that there was no more extended room for them to store away any more unspoken grievances. Seven years of skeletons packed tightly away, bursting to escape.

He now surmised that Quarra had been the last straw, the reason for that bubbling darkness beneath his consciousness. New Earth had been the first puncture, the first drop of rage that burned itself into being, and all their subsequent encounters added to the flow, which was why he accepted Seven's advances. Quarra had broken him. He needed to quell the fury and resentment he had been unwittingly forging, Chakotay had been searching for peace. Spirits, he hated hindsight, at least now he could appreciate the source of his discontent. 

He could finally acknowledge that the only time he even felt close to calm was at the end of the banquet.

_Tom's voice reverberated, and Chakotay pulled back from Seven's lips, a smile still playing on her face. They both had turned to see three of their crew members chatting idly, and he hadn't time to speak to any of them properly all night, reunions with family and friends had pulled them all in separate directions. He gestured his head in their direction, and Seven nodded in agreement, and they made their way over. Miral was comfortably nestled in Janeway's arms, and she was an adorable baby. Impossibly big brown eyes framed with long lashes, her pouting mouth opening, and closing as she babbled. Afterwards, he moved his attention towards Janeway, her gaze soft, sweet, and tranquil. He had never seen her entirely so unguarded, every emotion filtered through unhindered, she swayed slightly, humming to a peaceful melody. _

_It felt like he had been punched, the wind knocked out of his being, the image of her left him breathless. In his panic, he had reached for Seven's wrist, needing something to ground him. When Janeway finally looked at them both, the Captain's facade he was used to was nowhere to be seen, and there was a broad smile playing on her lips. Her eyes brought to life glistened and danced with untold promise. She settled Miral into Tom's arms and turned to face them, she was speaking, that he could tell, he could hear her voice but could not make out the words. He couldn't focus on her, not when what felt like a stream of cooling liquid flowed through his being, settling something that stalked angrily within him._

_"You're all so tall this is incredibly frustrating." She chuckled, bringing her body closer. Her hand clasped over his, warmth permeating into skin. She hadn't a full grasp of his hand, appearing content in resting it there lightly. It was he who tightened his hold, he who pulled her in. Her proximity allowed her to pull herself up easier and brought her in line with his cheek. His breath vanished, his pulse quickened, and his mind quietened. It was an onslaught, her breath, her skin, her fragrance. It was cruel. Lips brushed his cheek, and his eyes closed in response, he felt peaceful, the whole affair was quick and probably lasted milliseconds, but it had been slowed to a crawl in his mind. He was frightened, terrified, feelings that he had wanted to burn out of existence rose in defiance. There was an undeniable urge to turn his head, rest it against her own and peer into her eyes, and- then she pulled away. She released her hold; fingers brushing against the skin and locked his hand into Seven's. No malice, anger, or disappointment._

He knew where the rage was coming from, his eyes flew open, and his chest ached as questions burst forth. How dare she?! How dare she reignite what was dead? Reanimate what he tried desperately to kill. How dare she take his hand and wish him well? Condemn her to hell, for letting him go with such grace and class. Damn her soul, for gracing him with her beautiful smile as she released him to another woman.

Curse him for his contrary nature.

How could he have let her go?

How did he forget his promise?

* * *

"_Daddy to Golden bird…My ETA is fifteen minutes…rendezvous with me in my study at sixteen hundred hours…this is top secret…Daddy out."_

Kathryn startled awake; she had nodded off on her desk. She sighed, rubbing her hands over her face, recently childhood memories, recollections, and feelings were emerging from the crypts which she had forsaken them. She hadn't had a resurgence of memories like that since the Kazon attack a year and a half into their journey. She looked down at her desk at her PADD, and perhaps she shouldn't be surprised, after all, she was exactly a year and a half deep into _Voyagers _logs. It's_ just the result of going through old records_ she reminded herself.

Admiral Montgomery had asked her to compile a list of all the hostile aliens and enemy situations with full weapon analysis, from there they would extrapolate the data and create training programs for the recruits and staff. It was a momentous task, and she hadn't quite realised how often they found themselves in dire situations, it had become such a commonplace that hostile alien attack seemed to be expected whenever they beamed down to a planet. Kathryn had started a month ago, against the advisement of her family and friends. Still, they couldn't understand, while the first few weeks of leave was heaven sent and then she found herself slipping into her dreams more often, memories of things long past and better forgotten started to emerge. She couldn't be idle. With the promise that they would have bi-weekly dinners Phoebe had assented, not that she didn't make her thoughts on the matter very clearly and loudly known. B'Elanna, Tom, and Owen were the only ones that understood, well they would be, given that they were star jockeys themselves.

Montgomery had also informed her that after three months she would be liaising with Captain Logan Grey, Grey was in a unique position here at Starfleet, one that had intrigued Janeway. He had overseen the _Odysseus, _a biological exploration ship, upon his return he had promptly requested academic leave and had spent the last several months reviewing the data he collected from alien species across the alpha to gamma quadrants. The scientist in her was envious, and a ship dedicated purely to scientific exploration and a crew full of like-minded scientists traversing quadrants in search of unknown data in known space. The stark opposite to _Voyager,_ though biology had never been her favourite of the sciences. Montgomery had begrudgingly admitted that due to her numerous encounters with Borg and survival despite the odds, she was considered one of the Federation's top experts on the Borg, and with that came responsibility. She sighed at the memory; even his compliments were laced with insult, she was to work Grey and review the effects of assimilation and the replacement of human anatomy with machinery. Though she was grateful for the opportunity, she couldn't help but mention that perhaps Seven and Icheb would be better suited to the task, having been assimilated, part of the collective and liberated they could offer a unique insight. The steely look of contempt her directed at her would have crumbled an ensign, but Janeway had faced creatures far more terrifying than a war-hungry Admiral.

She was currently logging another Kazon attack when the sound of her comm interrupted her.

"Yes."

"Admiral, there is a Captain Logan Grey here to see you. He hasn't an appointment but considering this is regarding the Borg project I can inform you that you have approximately 25 minutes free right at this moment. I assume you are currently logging the Kazon attack. Given the speed at which you work, I believe this interruption will not be of hindrance to the overall productivity of the day. I can reschedule your appointments if you need longer. Shall I send him in?"

"Show him in Ensign" Kathryn held back a smile, Decan was her new assigned aide, it seemed that no matter where she may end up in life, at her right-hand will always be a Vulcan. The fair-haired Ensign was the epitome of composure and his countenance rarely strayed from that, physically he was a stark contrast from her dear friend but his stern face and predilection for sarcastic humour, when needed, was always welcomed. Though he would never replace Tuvok, he served as a physical reminder of her dearest friend.

"Admiral, Captain Logan Grey. Would you like refreshments Admiral, Captain?"

She flashed a smile at him briefly before returning to her PADD "No, thank you, Ensign." Admiral Janeway had yet to raise her head, and she just needed to transfer a couple more files. "I'll be with you, Captain, my apologies I need but a moment." she clapped her hands as the upload completed "There, done. Now Captain, welcome." She raised her gaze upwards and settled on the man in front of her.

The man was something to behold, a strikingly tall figure and ample brow, large green eyes that gleamed with mischief and an aquiline nose. He had a jovial air to him as he regarded her with a grin, the shock of black hair was settled in waves and curls, framing his high cheekbones. If Kathryn did not know any better, she would have hazarded a guess that someone had pulled this man out of one of her Gothic holo-novels.

"Admiral Janeway, a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance." He waited for her to walk around her desk before grabbing her hand in a firm handshake, his mouth quirked upwards. He was British, and Kathryn bit back the urge to chuckle; some higher power was toying with her. "I am thoroughly looking forward to working with you, though I must admit." He bent down and whispered in a conspiratorial tone "I was a little nervous; your reputation precedes you." 

"I assure you, Captain, you have nothing to worry about, after all at the end of the day you and I are both scientists with titles. Please take a seat."

* * *

Kathryn felt as if she had multiple personalities; there was Admiral Janeway, the long-returned hero who had delivered _Voyager _home despite the ever-decreasing odds. There was Captain Janeway, and she was split into two categories, before and after the Delta Quadrant. Form bright-eyed and optimistic to hardened and wary. Then there was Kathryn, in a constant struggle for happiness and normality and had been since she was a child. Kathryn, who had been to the very depths of darkness and depression and had managed to claw her way out to the world above. She tried to get her sun moments when she could, like right now, surrounded by her friends as she laughed the night away, but there was a piece of her that wasn't quite touched by happiness. A darkness that refused to leave, she donned the kabuki mask, the world a stage, and this was her audience.

"He was so nervous he had started pre-drinking before the date and one of his buddies, unbeknown to me, had given him 'A little something for his nerves' there had to have been a drug-drug interaction because he was absolutely off his head. He wandered out of the bar, I had to chase after him, my heel broke mid-sprint, and I was clambering down the road like some sort of dishevelled Cinderella. I finally caught up with him near the riverbank, and he was attempting to recite one of Shakespeare's sonnets" The stifling of giggling saturated the room "Then while attempting to jump atop a stump of a tree he lost his footing and fell in!" The giggling had devolved into a loud burst of laughter "To make matters worse he couldn't swim so I had to jump in after him and drag his body to the bank, he was 6ft3 and 200lbs of pure muscle. After I called his buddies to come pick him up, I began the trek to my dorm, looking like a drowned rat. I had lost the other shoe by the way." Kathryn paused deep in contemplation "It's probably still in that river." More laughter ensued, with one hand refilling her glass the other slammed onto the coffee table, her alcohol reddened cheeks puffed up in fear "And who did I run into afterwards? William T. Riker."

"Kathryn no!" Phoebe gasps, she's trying to be sympathetic, but the whole story has had her in tears for the last 2 minutes.

"It was cadet happy hour at our local dive and ¾ of our class was out that night. And to get to my dorm, you had to walk past Hennessy's. He spots me barefoot, wet, squelching down the street and just stares slack-jawed. I was mortified. A week later, we have a blind date, but I turned him down."

"What?!" the three women shout in surprise.

"I had to turn him down though, I was due to hand in my thesis for Admiral Paris" there was a universal groan of anger "I will have you know had I not, I never would have gotten my doctoral degree in quantum cosmology." She tips the rest of the contents of her glass into her mouth "Thank you very much."

Phoebe poured more wine into both Carla's and B'Elanna's glasses, eyeing her sister with disappointment. "Kathryn, I love you, but sometimes I question the legitimacy of our relation." she shook her head, not unlike the way a disappointed mother would do reprimanding her wayward child. "I mean William T. Riker."

"That hair! The beard…those eyes. I mean if Tom wasn't in the picture." B'Elanna nudged Phoebe with clear inference, the pair of them collapsed into a fit of hysterics, between the four of them they had polished off three bottles of wine. It was supposed to be a classy, quiet affair, Kathryn had set out a cheese board, with various fruits, nuts, cheeses, and meats but the council had been discarded halfway through the night.

"So that was my worst date story." Kathryn finishes, eyes bleary, reaching over Carla to grab at the grapes.

Phoebe raised her glass high above her head "Well, thank god we grew up."

"Here, here" Carla proffered, waving her hand aimlessly.

Kathryn raised her glass. That wasn't the whole story, the real reason she had turned Riker down was one even she couldn't fully comprehend. It has been after the Cheb affair, and he had stripped her raw, accused her of being nothing more than a scientist, she was to him, without compassion and care. Riker terrified her because he was the first man she had been attracted to since entering the academy, he had something beyond charm, intelligence, and wit and her defences were dropping the more they talked. She felt her fingers tingle when their hands touched, and her mind screamed. _Get out now_ the last time that happened had been with Cheb. Then Kathryn couldn't help noticing that he looked quite like her ex-boyfriend, with those impossibly blue eyes and the dark hair. Suddenly she was hurtled back to the day she and Cheb broke up, in a cave, his mood had been souring for weeks. He hadn't gotten into Starfleet, and he had been short and cutting with everyone, still, they had decided to go on this trip together. It was a disaster, and it ended with Cheb caustically berating her for her lack of compassion, empathy, support. She needed to get out of there, so she made her excuses as awkward as they were and retreated to her dorm room.

"Here's to growing up" she echoed. She was glad for it, and as she looked out towards the women she called friends; she smiled. They were an odd quartet. A botanist, an artist, an engineer, and an admiral That's_ the beginning of joke if I ever did hear one_. She had initially been worried about introducing Phoebe and B'Elanna to Carla. Apprehensive as to whether as beautiful as the woman was, her sister and what she now considered her friend and pseudo daughter, might see Carla as the woman who stole away Mark. It appeared that wasn't a problem; this was their seventh night together in the last three months.

"Any prospects" Carla murmured, her eyes were closed, and there was a drunken smile on her face. Kathryn was unusually quiet, and ordinarily, when they teased her on her dating life, she would either regale them with details of her dates, whether success or failure or shush them with a playful slap. Carla's eyes snapped open, and she flipped over to her stomach, while Phoebe gasped and clambered off the sofa to join Carla on the floor, legs crossed, both looking like impish kindergarteners. B'Elanna was still draped across the armchair, slowly sipping her wine, though the curious look on her face indicated she too was interested.

"Possibly." She couldn't be that person she was as a cadet; she couldn't be the woman she was with Mark, and she couldn't be the woman she was on Voyager. She didn't know what she was supposed to be, only that it had to be better, those past versions of herself, though not perfect, had made her stronger. Her experiences had highlighted her faults and shortcomings. Admiral Janeway from the future had shown her what lay in store if she closed off her heart and continued running. She couldn't hide anymore; misery lay in weight if she continued citing protocol and setting up parameters. "A couple of months ago, I started working on a research project. The researcher is a scientist still active in the field, and he's a captain, its unheard of for a researcher to hold such a high rank. His name is Log-" A loud chiming beep cut through the room, B'Elanna jumped up in surprise.

"Sorry, it's my comm, though I don't know who would be trying to reach me at this hour. Kathryn, can I? I won't be a minute." Janeway waved her off, and B'Elanna disappeared to the kitchen and opened comm. She read the message and stared hard for a few minutes blinking back the alcohol that clouded her vision. The message was long, and her attention span had decreased to non-existent levels, she skimmed the entire thing a few times before her mind could construct a narrative.

Chakotay was coming back.


	7. Borg Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is more to the Borg Project than Admiral Janeway is being told and during dinner with Captain Grey, something unexpected happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Science heavy chapter folks, i let my true nerd out in this and no Chakotay but he's on his way don't worry.  
*Edit I have made changes to chapter 4/5/6 so if anyone read them before 08/09/2019 I suggest revisiting those chapters, I did a little more research into Janeway and also tried to settle the tone change as it was bugging me.

# Borg Theory

* * *

The lab reminded her of her time spent as a science officer, the west wing of the 7th floor belonged to Captain Grey and was split into its factions of Biology, chemistry, and physics. As Janeway strode through the corridor the scientist in her marvelled, there was no expense paid here, the intrigue of the machinery had her rapt. The scuttling of Ensigns from one end of the room to the other, either in relief or frustration at yet another failed experiment.

"Admiral!" Captain Grey was at the top of a staircase that led to his office, his bright green eyes boring into her own. She felt the hairs on her neck stand to attention. "Come on up I will bring you up to speed." He meandered across the room and returned with a tray of tea and coffee. "Biscuits Admiral, not unlike the cookies you have here, just a tad more palatable. I have to admit that for as long as I have been here, I find American confectionery still too sweet for my palate." He settled the tray down and poured

"Well, unfortunately, Captain you and I cannot work together" she laughed as she made for the coffee "I happen to have a rather sweet tooth. My mother's caramel brownies are diabetes-inducing, they'd pack up your pancreas in a mouthful."

"Well, I consider myself warned." He settled behind his desk, and his eyes took on a severe glint. "I'll be frank with you Admiral we are at the end of our rope here. My assistant quit, quite abruptly if I might add, Ensign Fallows was brilliant. Her knowledge of nanotechnology and its biological application was second to none. She was also quite the engineer. I find myself floundering my area of expertise is far as removed from the Borg as possible. What I need from you is rather simple, a report on the assimilation process. An outline into how it was that you were able to defeat the Borg queen during the final attack that brought you home to us."

Janeway found herself studying Captain Logan intently, his demeanour had changed, and he appeared to her, at that moment, not unlike how she acted when she was on the bridge. His eyes alight with a passion and intensity, ready to take on an enemy ship. She had read over his file, aware that he had been offered the Admiral position several times over a decade. Each time he refused, the man in front of her while not to be underestimated was not in any way destined for a desk job, she envied him.

"We infected the Borg with a neurolytic pathogen. I am afraid I am not privy to its makeup; my future counterpart, though instrumental in the manufacturing, divulged nothing. I assume Admiral Montgomery has clued you in on the details?" she paused, with a scrutinising glance, offering him the chance to answer.

"Ken has given me a crude overview, but he's not a man of science" he let the statement hang in the air, leaving it open to interpretation.

Kathryn fought a smile at the disguised jab. It was common knowledge that much of the details of _Voyagers_ dealings, not just with the Borg, were subject to 'on a need to know basis' at least the finer details were, she continued "She deliberately infected herself with the pathogen to get assimilated. However, she had to be assimilated by the Borg Queen herself."

"How was the pathogen able to cause harm to the Borg? There isn't a lot that can injure cybernetic organisms?"

"Indeed, the pathogen was able to destroy the transwarp network, thereby severing the Borg Queens connection to a large majority of the collective."

"Affecting the shielding protecting the interspatial manifolds supporting the network." Grey surmised. "Ah! I see. That's why she needed to be assimilated by the Queen, as opposed to any old drone." 

"Exactly!" Janeway slapped her hand on the table in delight, it had been a while since she had this productive intellectual back and forth, the only person who was able to run at the same speed as her frantic brain was B'Elanna. "The Queen regulated interspatial manifolds supporting the network personally, therefore with her infected we could-"

"Destabilise the network." he finished. They had both been inching towards each other with each passing sentence.

"With that down, we were able to take advantage of the situation. We fired a series of transphasic torpedoes, thereby destroying the manifolds and collapsing the network, ending with the destruction of the Queen and the Unicomplex."

"That's inspired." 

Kathryn realised how close they'd gotten in their excitement and carefully pulled herself back. Captain Grey leaned back in his chair, impressed. "You're a brilliant scientist and tactician Admiral."

"I'm afraid I cannot take credit for that one. It was the bravery and brilliance of another."

"But she is you. As you are here, somewhere along the line, there must be an overlay of minds. I do not doubt that you will reach her heights."

A tight smile found its way to her lips, Janeway knew he meant it as a compliment, and from a scientific standpoint, her future alternate counterpart was a brilliant woman. However, there was no part of Kathryn that wanted to overlap with her, that woman had far too many ghosts.

"Sorry to intrude. Admiral." The young Ensign gave a slight nod before turning to his Captain "Captain; we have another one." The Ensigns voice held neutrality, but it could not dissuade from the sudden shift in the Captain. Microscopic changes and had Janeway not spent years surrounded by Admirals and Captains from childhood she would have missed it. It was the slight creasing of his brow, the steadying of his fingers that previously had been dancing on the handle of his cup. The rigidity of his back and the far too controlled exhale out. Then there was the thinning of his lips and more tellingly the narrowing of his eyes, they occurred within milliseconds of one another and were gone as soon as they had arrived. She had spent years perfecting her captains mask and could recognise when one was employed.

"Thank you, Ensign Maine."

"So, a report on assimilation with my understanding is that it?"

"For now, Admiral, yes." there was a forced jovial tone to his words, or perhaps it only sounded forced to her because she knew it to be.

"I can have that report for you by the end of the day, Captain."

"Please, Logan. I loathe being addressed by titles, airs, and graces if you ask me."

She gave a short, perfunctory nod and they both stood, as she left the glass-windowed office and threw a glance back. Captain Grey was pacing back and forth in an animated fashion as the Ensign spoke, stoic, and unmoving. Whatever was being relayed was not what the Captain wanted to hear because Janeway could see the exasperation on his face as clear as day. A stark contrast from the jovial Captain she was with few minutes ago speaking with. Though she supposed, she had only met him twice before, hardly enough time to judge someone's character, but she prided herself in her exemplary judgment. It's how she knew to trust Chakotay, why she accepted Seven after they had liberated her from the collective, and how she was able to outwit Kashyk. Right now, her gut was telling her that there was more to this Borg project than merely record-keeping and scientific curiosity. As she rounded the corner of the lab, she saw Grey's fist slam onto his desk.

* * *

Janeway stood in front of the lecture theatre, looking up at the empty chairs; this was to be her first lecture. After reading her report, Captain Grey had insisted she give an address to the science officers of his department. Her bright and concise summary had impressed him. Recalling the quizzical look he gave her that evolved into one of enthusiasm as he reread her report. She was vaguely insulted; she had been one of the few students who managed to snag Admiral Paris as an adviser for her junior honour thesis, back in her cadet days. She was more than capable of a simple report. Nonetheless, he was impressed, and now she found herself pacing the atrium with an excited energy, an energy that dissipated with the arrival of Admiral Montgomery.

"Admiral Janeway."

The grimace that she held back successfully, quite frankly, warranted an award. She turned on her heel and gave her brightest smile, as to whether that smile reached her eyes? Well, that was a question for another time.

"Admiral Montgomery, a pleasure to see you. I had no idea you had an interest in the sciences, you strike me as a man who prefers tactical analytics to biochemistry." She tried to inject as much buoyancy into her tone as possible, at the end of the day whether she liked him or not; this man outranked both her and Captain Grey. He could pull funding from the project and reassign her to the most menial of tasks; she was not going to make an enemy of him easily. Ten years ago, a twenty-something-year-old Kathryn would have stridden right up to him and given him a good what for; she was notorious for her frank nature. The Janeways, in general, were known for their acidic tongues and quick temper. The years had seen that tempered she knew which battles to pick and at which arena to fight them and this wasn't one of them.

"I don't, but the Borg are a reprehensible pseudo species Admiral. I am here exactly for tactical analytics, and I am a firm believer in knowing one's enemies. No species has further alluded me and caused greater destruction than the Borg." He paused mid tirade "As an Admiral, I find that we should be prudent. A compendium of knowledge on all our enemies is what we should strive for, surely you agree?"

"I fear you will be studying for the rest of your life." The quip did not go unnoticed if the narrowing of Montgomery's brow was anything to go by. Kathryn cursed silently; she just could not hold her tongue. It was a wonder her mother hadn't maintained any modicum of sanity dealing with both her and Phoebe. "Though I agree with you a degree, but I think our knowledge should encompass all species, not just our foes but also our friends" Thankfully she was saved from his rebuttal by the first flock of Ensigns that entered the hall, which quickly turned into quite the crowd. More than happy to extricate herself from Montgomery she settled towards the centre of the atrium. When the doors were closed, she a bright smile graced her face, she stared out to the crowd and clapped her hands.

"Ladies and gentlemen bet this is not where you thought you'd be on Friday afternoon, diving into the nuances of Borg assimilation. I'm sure you'd all rather be at Hennessy's a couple of beers down, hustling each other at pool." Laughter filled the hall. "Well, I will make this as entertaining as it can be and hope you all don't fall asleep. Now let's begin."

She started with the initial assimilation, the injection of Borg nanoprobes, and with the help of the holoprojector, she was able to demonstrate with visual examples. It was a linear way of infection. The Borg nanoprobes attach themselves to the victim's red blood cells as they enter circulation. Full body distribution occurred within minutes with the nanoprobes spreading through the capillaries of the victim's skin. She went into great detail as she discussed the different stages. She was delineating the point where the victim was still in control of their faculties and individuality with virtually none of the Borg's standard array of defences. To the point where the nanoprobes would start self-replicating, producing larger constructs that form the necessary Borg implants.

She outlined all the significant structures assembled, from the neural transceiver. Responsible for allowing the collective to tap into the victim's mind, thus usurping control of his or her body. She discussed the implications and importance of the vocal sub-processor; it was an in-depth account that didn't skim on the details. Janeway found that her crowd was rapt; she blistered with pride as she moved onto the topic of physical alterations. She was explaining how and when the victim ceased being part of their species. At what moment they were considered a drone. She activated the holoprojector again and showed holoimages of various drones, asking her audience to take notes. First, she outlined the skin colouration, the easily identifiable pale grey skin with its mottled appearance. She was bringing their attention to the small implants that appeared both internally and externally on the victim's body. At this moment certain Ensigns visibly tensed, she put down their general discomfort to the nature of the topic. Easy to dismiss but then she chanced upon the reactions of Admiral Montgomery, Ensign Maine, and Captain Grey.

There was silent panic written across Maine's face, clinical detachment in Grey's, and a steely resolve in Montgomery's. As to not draw attention to the fact that she was assessing them, Janeway began to pace. Rounding cross the atrium, making a show of it all, settling her gaze on different points of the room and different Ensigns. Always keep one of the three men within her peripheral vision. Finally, her attention landed in the general area in which Montgomery was seated, and she took note. Intrigued by the tension in his jaw, that seemed to build as she continued to list off signs and symptoms.

"Finally, the drone is then taken to the Borg facility where larger implants are surgically installed, tools, weaponry, and the like." She powered down the holoprojector and turned to her audience "Any questions?"

Several arms immediately sprouted up, she answered them as clearly and concisely as she could. The nature of the questions, from most of the officers, seemed to centre around the nature of the Borg themselves and their desire for perfection. She was pleased it had gone well, and she was ready to call it a night. Her mouth opened prepared to give them their dismissal when she caught sight of one more arm held firmly up in the air. She recognised the owner, and the arm belonged to Ensign Maine.

"Yes Ensign, what is your question?"

"You stated earlier that the Borg generally do not assimilate individuals. That they have a preference for larger groups, such as the crews of starships and the populations of planets."

"That is correct, from our multiple run-ins with _Voyager_ we found that when they are presented with a small number of individuals, Borg drones will ignore them altogether. Unless of course, an individual demonstrated some quality found worthy by the collective or if they posed a threat to Borg themselves."

"So, they are selective?"

"Yes and no. They are all about working to optimum capacity, assimilating an individual one by one is hardly in-line with their idea of efficiency."

"Hypothetically speaking then, they wouldn't assimilate an ordinary, everyday person? Off the top of my head a woman in her mid-sixties from let's say, Tampa. A schoolteacher, for instance?" there was laughter from some of the other officers. Kathryn wanted to laugh at the ludicrous nature of the question as well, but there was weight behind his line of inquiry. An earnestness in Ensigns Maine's eyes that she could not ignore.

"It is of my opinion that the Borg would not assimilate such an individual as she holds no worth, without offending, to them. She is of no significance and adds no benefit. Had she been a Starfleet officer, a government official perhaps? A Captain or an Admiral more so the case."

Kathryn was about to expand on her answer further when Admiral Montgomery stood up, abruptly, hands behind his back and face impassive. Janeway wondered whether he did anything gradually, calmly, or deliberately, whether dismissal and abruptness were all he was capable of. "I think that's where we are going to end this evening, and it's gotten quite late." His tone left no room for debate "Wouldn't you agree Admiral Janeway?" it wasn't a question, it was an order. 

"Quite. You are all dismissed, have a pleasant evening."

Slowly the officers began to disperse; she tried to catch the eye of Ensign Maine. The young man was chewing on his lip nervously and all but drew blood as he passed Montgomery. He picked up his pace, shrinking submissively, as the Admiral straightened to his full height. Montgomery's intense gaze didn't stray from the young man until he was safely out the door. _Interesting _she thought, there is more going on here than meets the eye. The hall emptied, and soon it was she and Captain Logan left.

"That was an unmitigated success I would say."

She beamed _cards close to your chest Kathryn; something is afoot. "I'd_ say it was yes."

"How about dinner?"

"Well, it is late enough, and I have a terrible habit of neglecting that particular requirement."

"Come now; surely you don't mean to tell me Kathryn, that you survive on coffee and brownies alone?"

"The brownies are a treat. I'm afraid anything coffee flavoured pretty much has my heart."

"I do so hope that is not the case." It wasn't a heated look, but there was something of significance behind it, and she found herself neither repulsed nor attracted by it, merely curious. This was new. She had never met someone in which she could say she felt true neutrality for. It seemed as if he were a coin that had been tossed in the air and landed on its edge, which side it fell had yet to be determined. Then there was this whole Borg affair, she hated being in the dark, it was the quickest way to get killed, and she had no intention of being another body in whatever game was going on here.

He held out his arm, gesturing her to precede him. "I know a great Spanish place not too far from here."

* * *

The restaurant was beautiful and called the Spanish Moss. "Odd name for a restaurant," Kathryn noted as she removed her outer jacket.

"Its namesake is a plant, a beautiful grey-green plant that has a penchant for draping itself over oak trees down in the Deep South, quite a thing to behold actually."

The sat comfortably in each other's presence and chatted idly, switching from one topic to the next, conversation flowed smoothly between them. The food had been divine, from the crab soup starter to the seafood medley and decadent desserts, she sighed at the end of the meal sipping contentedly on her after-dinner coffee. This was perfect, on paper this evening was perfect, but she felt unsettled, there was something not quite right about it, and she could not put her finger on it.

"Ah, that reminds me of your assistant what became of her?"

"Ensign Fallows." Grey shook his head sadly "A mystery if I ever did hear one. No one knows, one day she's here, and we are going over nanotechnology, and the next day her resignation is sitting on my desk. Her locker had been cleared. Ensign Aria Fallows, Kathryn she was quite brilliant. You would have liked her, and she all but forced her way onto my project, you know. Quite the feat considering she's the quietest thing you've ever seen on two legs." He had the look of a proud father "I'm a sucker for the underdog, the overlooked and forgotten."

"I would have to agree with you; I had my own Fallows. His name is Harry Kim. He was as green horned as they come when he first stepped on to _Voyager_. You should see him now, and I can honestly say I have never been more proud than when he was promoted to Lieutenant." Her eyes creased slightly as she recalled with fondness Harry's sweet face. "I really should have promoted him when we were out there, I mean we were there for seven years, and he went above and beyond on so many occasions. Somehow I never got round to it." she was in full laughter now "I owe that young man quite the present." 

"Kathryn- "

Suddenly they found themselves on the floor; Grey was wearing his dessert wine and she, her coffee. They looked around and noticed that the other patrons were too on the floor, tables chairs, every piece of holographic furniture had disappeared. The holo emitters frazzled into stasis and soon they were sat on a grew slab base, oddly the holographic characters remained. Both Janeway and Grey jumped to their feet, looking like quite the frightening pair.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

"Invasion, conquest, revolution" one of the holograms stated calmly. He shimmered out of existence. Kathryn turned to Grey, who met her cautious gaze.

"Something tells me that this isn't a local phenomenon."

"I believe you're right Captain."

"Call me Logan. Kathryn, I am trying to establish a rapport, or if you cannot manage that" she shot her a bright grin "Grey will suffice."

Kathryn smirked his humour a welcomed comfort given the circumstance. "Well then, Grey, let's go." They made their way to the transporters at that exact moment her combadge chirped, and she winced trying to hear as the people around her panicked. "Janeway here."

"Admiral there appears to be the situation."

"That's putting it lightly Decan. Status."

"It appears there has been a global malfunction with the Holograms and their programming. Various reports are coming in, no one had been injured, but I have been going over the online reports the words "Invasion, conquest, revolution" were repeated in 120 countries. There has been noncompliance across the board with regards to the holocharacters."

"Noted, Decan have either captain Grey or I been requested out?"

"Negative Admiral."

"We're coming in anyway, Janeway out." Admiral Janeway strode up to the transporter site. Her course set directly for on the of the holograms, he stared defiantly at her. "Do you understand what you are doing?"

"Yes."

"Are you doing this under your own free will?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

Tonight was going to be a long night.

* * *

By the time she got back to her apartment it was, 4 am there had been an emergency meeting with Admirals and Captains planetside. As the engineers and technicians, tasked with setting the holo-programs right again worked away, the senior staff talked. It was hours on end as a strategy after strategy was discussed and debated. Theories and blame were hurtled back and forth, tensions were high, and nerves were frayed. In the end, the problem sorted itself out, which caused more problems than it solved. It meant that there was someone out there who had access to the universal hologram program, someone who could cause worldwide panic and set it right again. It said they weren't in control. They were vulnerable.

Kathryn was exhausted, and as she keyed in her code, she could think of nothing more than collapsing into bed. As she walked through the threshold, she noticed a piece of paper on the ground. It wasn't there this morning, and it certainly didn't belong to her; the writing was thin and reminded of the graph paper she used to use at school. As she unfolded the article, there were two words written in big, bold black script.

**HELP ME.**


	8. The Captaincy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janeway find out who the new Captain of voyager is and sets her mind on discovering the truth in the Borg research project.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chakotay and Janeway will be reunited, soon two chapters to go tops and from there it's smooth sailing...well...kind off.

# The Captaincy

* * *

_4-year-old Kathryn sat cross-legged with a petulant look on her face, her arms crossed, and at any moment she was going to burst into tears. She had memorised her seven, eight- and nine-times tables, she could recall them all correctly and had told her father, initially he had responded the way she had expected, and then he ruined it. He had thrown her world off-kilter, tossing her into the ocean. _

_Nine times eleven. _

_It wasn’t fair, and she had said as much, she hadn’t gone past ten for all her times’ tables. Why would he ask her that out of nowhere? She wanted to cry, she hated being wrong but worse than being wrong she hated not knowing things, her eyes watered, her little lip began to quiver._

_“Kathryn you have proven to me that you can memorise numbers, but that’s not enough. You also need to know how to think as well, solve problems, and you want to be like daddy right, darling?” The question brought bright blues eyes to attention, and she nodded emphatically. Did she want to be like daddy? What a silly question. Who else would she want to be like? “Well then think. Starfleet needs people who can think little Goldenbird, not people who blindly follow orders and memorise facts. That will only get you so far. Think.” he pressed. “Well let’s go and get some brownies then.”_

_She shook her head and plopped her bottom on the floor. She would not be bested; instead of taking her father’s hand, she closed her eyes. It was an order, a pattern, and they were everywhere, that’s why she liked maths. It was all patterns and numbers, and there was nowhere to hide with numbers. She imagined the lionfish in her father’s aquarium all lined up in a row, nine of them, then eighteen, twenty-seven, and she continued until she got to ninety. That was ten rows, so eleven rows would be nine more. You add nine to ninety._

_“Ninety-nine.” She whispered. She popped one eye open, spying her father’s face and saw a curious expression._

_“Yes…that’s right. Kathryn, how did you work that out?”_

_“I imagined them in my head.” She giggled. She loved it when she took him by surprise “It’s all patterns, Daddy! Patterns everywhere.”_

Kathryn groaned. The light was streaming from her window, willing her back to reality, another dream. They were becoming more frequent; she lay in bed for a few minutes and just enjoyed the silence, this was the only time her head was ever clear since she was a child, the mornings had always held a special place in her heart. She had no thoughts, no worries, and no fears. When she was in bed it was as if she was in another universe and as soon as her feet hit the ground, she was hurtled back to earth, and every demon crawled out from under their resting place. They stretched, writhed, and yawned themselves awake before settling deep into her thoughts. _Just a few more minutes _she thought _A few more minutes before I cease being Kathryn and become Admiral Janeway. _It would all be official in a few days, and the venue picked, her dress chosen, the people invited, it was all a bit much really. She didn’t need a ceremony and had insisted as much. Still, she was Starfleet’s Golden Girl, and the numbers of recruits had dropped significantly after the war, they needed to be seen in a favourable light and what could be brighter and bolder than the Admiralty awarding ceremony of Kathryn Janeway. Kathryn M Janeway daughter to the late Edward Janeway, a legacy. She scoffed. Twenty years ago, when she had been fifteen, she would have liked nothing better, she lived, breathed and ate Starfleet, how Kathryn wished she could go back and tell the plucky hormonal teen to take a break and not be so hard on herself. To breathe because you’re never going to breathe again. She swung her feet over her bed and was about to heave herself out when whimpering caught her ear.

“Roan” she sighed; the puppy scuttled towards her, ears flopping with every step, when he finally reached the foot of the bed, he nudged her foot. “You hapless little thing, what is it?” she picked him up and he snuggled further into her neck, whimpering all the while “Oh I see. You’re just lonesome, huh?” she snuggled back, walking towards the kitchen, busying herself with the concept of breakfast. As one hand made the coffee the other settled the shy creature “Well mister, so am I.”

At least they wouldn’t be alone tonight Carla had insisted that she come to dinner, having discovered a new souffle recipe that incorporated coffee as a key ingredient. The woman had known her less than a year and already knew the way to Kathryn’s heart. “Alright darling I’m going to have to put you down and shower, so” she settled the setter on his bed and grabbed a chew toy “This will have to do for now, okay mister?”

* * *

**HELP ME**

The words stood bold against the paper, in an era where technological advancements had moved beyond the use of paper and pen it was odd to see the script atop the thin paper, it was alien, she wanted to laugh, the irony not lost on her. However, her mood quickly darkened, the report attached to the scrap of paper revealed nothing, there was no DNA evidence, the molecular markers of the paper brought up nothing significant, all in all, a dead end. Janeway plopped herself down in her chair and sighed half out of exasperation and half out of fatigue; these past nine months had been tumultuous. She felt as if she was suspended in fluidic space, going nowhere and attached to nothing, the universe expanded around her, and she remained, an unknown entity in an unfamiliar area. As her eyes wandered over the vast white expanse of the ceiling, bitter notes of coffee wafted around her, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Admiral, I took the liberty of brewing you a fresh pot of coffee.” His eyes wandered over her relaxed form “It seems as if it is” he paused, face expressionless as he cocked his head slightly to the right. “One of those days.”

She smiled “You’re picking up my colloquialisms quite quickly.” He placed a few PADDs down and collected the remnants of her breakfast.

“I find them entertaining and useful; I often employ them with the other Ensigns. I find it humanises me in their eyes, there have been marked improvements in their reaction towards me, communication between myself and the other personal aides have increased by seventy-five percent.” 

Janeway’s eyebrows quirked, she had grown rather fond of Decan, his eccentricities were rather apparent now, he had a penchant for employing humour. He was not averse to sarcasm nor cynicism. She loved that about him, he was more than a Starfleet drone, competent to the T but armed with a personality and she thrived off that energy.

“I should also remind you Admiral, that your dress has been delivered to your lodgings for this weekends ceremony and that there have been a few changes. I have left them here on the PADD for you, Admiral Paris had been the one to want to share the news with you, but he is currently off-world for a conference.”

“How good is this news Decan?” she asked. Her gaze now rapt on the carafe as she poured the steaming liquid into her cup, inhaling deeply, this was the stuff of Gods, dry roast, full-bodied and dark, she licked her lips and brought the cup up to her lips. The first taste was always the best; the bitterness of the coffee swirled over her tongue, the heat of the liquid slid down her throat, warming her chest.

“Well, it is nothing extraordinary, in my opinion, a rather logical decision that doesn’t require any interlude of fuss. Though I am stating this from a Vulcan standpoint. I can acknowledge that from a Terran perspective it is of some significance, seeing as you are quite a reflective and emotional species, prone to fits of nostalgia.”

“Decan, you old romantic.”

He arched his brow high, and the sides of his mouth quirked microscopically, that was as good as a full-bellied laugh for him, her mouth widened to a full grin, that had settled it, he was as fond of her as she was of him.

“Go out with you, and I will look over these.”

“Admiral.” 

When Decan had left, and with much of her coffee consumed Janeway started on her workload, it was standard Starfleet drab until she came across the opening ceremony, Chakotay’s name. His name had been added to the list of service members to be promoted. She was relieved, he had accepted his commission and would now hold the title of Captain, Janeway smiled, if anyone deserved it, it was him. A disgraced Starfleet officer turned Maquis turned Captain, his life had taken many twists and turns, ups and downs, yet he had landed on his feet in the end. As she continued to read through the file, she came across the ship, he would captain, _Voyager, _now Janeway understood why Admiral Paris had wanted to be the one to tell her. She had captained that ship for several of the hardest years of her life; it was a part of her history, a part of her. She often wondered whether they would put her out of commission or hand her over to another Starfleet captain. The idea of anyone handling her, the very notion of handing her over to a stranger had always left a sour taste in her mouth. Chakotay was no stranger; he knew that ship like the back of his hand, had a connection to it that most would not understand, she could hand her girl over knowing that she was safe in his hands. It seemed Admiral Paris more than understood for it would not only be Janeway who presented Chakotay with his captaincy but also with _Voyager._

How things had progressed.

She thought of her former first officer, allowed herself to honestly think about him for the first time in months, for the first time since she released him in the transport room. Almost really was the worst kind of state and the sacrifices she had made to get them back were more poignant now that she was back. She loved him, of that she was confident, though if pressed Janeway wouldn’t be able to give an exact time of when and how it happened, the time elapsed so seamlessly with them that it seemed to her that she always had. Mark was now an ethereal spectre of her past and Chakotay a beacon eclipsing him, over the years the love she had for him settled into a contented friendship, her mercurial nature, and unwillingness to bend protocol forced that love into another category. There it sat in its ill-fitting box, desperately trying to free itself, and now that she was home, she did not need the restraint. That freedom meant she could unpack all that was convoluted and repressed and with the acknowledgement came the heartache, the realisation that Venice would never be. She had to suffer through love and loss simultaneously, the two symbiotically joined to the memory of him, and it was because of this that she was able to let him go. She loved him enough to do that, he deserved happiness, even if at some molecular level, she was broken by it. The illogical, emotional, and vulnerable aspect of her psyche screeched at her, reminding her that she had only told him ‘No’ and no that wasn’t never. She quietened that voice, soothing it with placating words, reminding it that she was not that selfish nor was she cruel enough to hold him to a promise uttered on a distant planet to a woman that no longer existed.

Janeway hadn’t spoken to him in several months, though she hadn’t spoken to any crewmen that were off-world in the same amount of time. Janeway had coined the rule that she would not contact off-world ex-crewmen, the fact that they were off-world meant that they needed space. The reality, she conceded was that she wanted space from only one and this was a viable loophole, she could avoid one under the guise of many. She spoke to Seven once at the end of every month without fault; it allowed enough time to elapse for Seven to collect a compendium of material to talk about. Despite continuing to feel responsible for Seven, Janeway acknowledged that she needed to take a step back and let her aunt and Chakotay take the reigns. She maintained strict communication guidelines, exclusively via written COMMs rather than by holo-communicator, allowing her to control the direction and flow of the conversation, however, this, much like the off-world rule was to save face. With messaging, she could steer the waters far away from matters too personal. Janeway could honestly say, hand on heart, that she was glad to see that Seven was acclimating well. Relieved that the young woman was settling comfortably and appeared, for all intent and purposes, to be content. That being said she wasn’t a masochist and would never seek out pain, though she was no stranger to it. She did not need to expose herself to it willingly, by submerging herself in the thrilling new adventure that was their relationship. Though it wasn’t as if that aspect of Janeway’s life was desolate or dry, it was quite the opposite, she had gone on numerous dates and had been propositioned twice as many times as that. While she had been happily indulging in all the things she had forgone out in the Delta Quadrant, it all felt a little off. Then there was tomorrow night, dinner with Admiral Harlow, she contemplated cancelling, but Phoebe would have her head. He seemed pleasant enough, successful, and intelligent to boot, but he was twice divorced. Once again Phoebe had reared her head and had told her not to let that put her off, ‘_twice engaged cannot judge twice-divorced’_ her sister had said, and Kathryn had to admit she had a point there. Phoebe’s ferocious determination to see her happy and settled was nothing if not infectious and one of the driving factors she had been so proactive of late. With that in mind and with the knowledge that the third man she had ever loved had slipped from her fingers, through her design, she relented. She accepted his invitations as they came, to coffee, breakfast, lunch, and now dinner.

A heavy sigh left her mouth, her mood slowly decompressing “Come on, Kathryn, back to work.”

* * *

Janeway’s stride through Starfleet HQ foyer ended abruptly as she walked straight into the backs of a couple of Ensigns, they muttered their apologies but made no attempt move as their attention was diverted to the information’s desk.

_“My daughter Claire T’Faal. She has been missing for two weeks-“_

_“Sir, I appreciate your frustration but-“_

_“She called in sick, said she felt ill” he pulled out a holo-picture and shoved it in the receptionists’ face, “She said she’d stay home for a few days, and then she disappeared. People don’t just disappear. No one believes me! They think she ran away. My Claire is a good girl, and she’s an accountant. She has a good life, and people love her she wouldn’t just-“He broke down in tears and security were making their way towards the desk. _

The Ensigns in front of Janeway continued their way, and she listened intently as she sipped her coffee. “Seems like we got another one.”

“Seems so, how many is that now?”

“I don’t know the double-digit territory.”

“You think something sinister is going on? I mean there seems to be an increase in the number of species reported missing.”

“Not sure but I peeked at the receptionists’ list, and honestly nothing is tying those who are missing together.”

“How the bloody hell did you manage that?”

“Oh, Jenny and I go way back, if you catch my drift.”

“You’re awful. So, nothing in the reports to link them. Well, there’s not much we can do aside file a report.”

The Ensigns continued to twitter on, but Janeway’s attention was focussed on the receptionist, Jenny. _Patterns everywhere_. Janeway shook the errant thought from her head, and nothing was random, nothing is impossible, they taught as much in advanced statistics. With everything subject to probability, every act and occurrence falls within a bell curve, from the highly likely to the unlikely. Even if it weren’t so, if maths didn’t back it, right now her gut was telling her that there was a connection and it rarely steered her wrong.

The receptionist seemed fidgety, uncomfortable, and a tad exasperated, Janeway watched as she nervously typed on her PADD, throwing a cursory glance over her shoulder, and then the most curious thing occurred. Ensign Maine strode up to the information desk, wearing the same grim expression he had a few weeks ago as he strode into Captain Grey’s office, he and Jenny chatted intensely. Janeway watched as the receptionist waved her PADD and gesticulated at the door. _Now, why would the science division be interested in a missing person’s case_ she wondered. Maine picked up the PADD and glanced at it and nodded, all the while Janeway had altered her path and was now walking directly towards them, she got near enough to hear him order Jenny to delete the file and settle the PADD on the desk before she was spotted.

“Ensign Maine!” her features fell into a comfortable mask “What brings you down here.”

“Admiral. Good Evening, I was just asking Jenny if she wanted to grab dinner with me.” He looked pointedly at the poor woman who flustered under the instance gaze Janeway gifted her; she nodded silently. _A lie. Okay Ensign let’s see what else we can get_

“Oh, I see.” Another smile, she settled her coffee on the desk and gently rested a hand on Jenny’s shoulder “Are you alright? That man who was here earlier seemed quite distraught.”

“Oh yes, his daughter –“

“Missing, I believe. I heard a couple of Ensigns chatting about it” she feigned ignorance rather well, years out in the Delta quadrant had served her well “They also mentioned something about the frequency of missing reports. There has been an increase. Is that right?”

Jenny paled under Janeway’s stare. She looked positively skittish, she tilted herself closer to Ensign Maine, and it was clear the poor woman didn’t trust her voice, her reaction noted it wasn’t what Janeway was interested in. No, the Admiral was carefully scrutinising Ensign Maine and from her periphery, not missing the way the young man straightened up at the question nor did she miss the way his fingers tightened into a fist. When enough seconds had elapsed, and Jenny had steadied her nerve, she answered “I haven’t noted an increase in frequency Admiral if I am honest. It is possible. I am at the desk all day, and there’s so much going on it’s hard to keep track of it all.” She gave smiles, forced, and straining. Janeway nodded, shooting her sweetest smile, what she needed was that PADD and she needed a diversion, quickly. She made for her coffee cup while turning to Ensign Maine.

“Ensign, I wanted to ask you-”

There was a loud crash and a gasp, and the cup Janeway had reached for was now shattered on the floor, Jenny, the desk and much of the floor were now covered in coffee, it was chaos. Jenny seemed torn between the contents of her desk and her state of dress, her hands suspended in the air as she tried to ascertain her next step. Her natural nervousness was quite easy to manipulate and allowed Janeway to manoeuvre herself behind the desk, in prime position. Her eyes searched for Ensign Maine, and she was pleased to see that the chaos had sent him back a few paces back. “I am sorry, Jenny, you must wash that off before it soaks through, go on.” She turned to Ensign Maine and ordered him to fetch the cleaning staff, ensuring them both that she would remain and handle any incoming visitors. When the coast was clear and the reception desk finally devoid of people, Janeway made her move and slipped the PADD that had been haphazardly left on the counter into her belongings, when Maine had returned Janeway steered him towards the exit.

“Ensign, is there something you want to tell me?” She asked so casually, and it was almost as if she was offering him a cup of tea “Because my instincts are telling me that there is.” She was giving him an out, a chance to stand on equal footing with her, Janeway had a suspicion the young man wanted to divulge, so she pressed further. 

“Ma’am?”

“Well, Ensign.” She said “Is there? I just can’t seem to shake off the questions you asked at the lecture all those weeks back.”

“Oh,” he said, and he hesitated briefly before placing a smile on his face, one that did not quite reach his eyes. “Just intellectual curiosity.”

“Maine.” her voice dropped an octave and ice penetrated her words “There are things in this world I do not take kindly to; threats and deception are two to name a few. You’ll find that I can be incredibly understanding and forgiving but countered to that I can be equally unrelenting and ruthless. It is how I survived out there in the unknown.” She placed her hand on his shoulder “So I ask again, is there anything I should know?” 

The young man visibly shrank under her touch, and she had to credit him, he was still standing even if he wasn’t quite meeting her gaze. “Admiral, I –“It seemed he was about to relent, then suddenly he squared his shoulders, he’d gotten a second wind of courage and took a deep breath in, steadying himself “I assure you there’s nothing.”

She nodded, released her grip, and promptly dismissed him, _Well Ensign I gave you a chance _she thought bitterly if there was one thing worse than a woman scorned it was a Janeway deceived. 


	9. Home Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kathryn enlists help that isn't Starfleet approved, Chakotay is planetside and finds that life has progressed quite happily in his absence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our star crossed lovers shall be reunited in the next chapter, thoughts on the story so far appreciated. I know the set up has been quite long but I hope you're enjoying it so far.

# Home Truths

* * *

_I don't do this often enough_ Janeway thought as she languidly rested on the kitchen island, swirling her wine. Carla fussed back and forth and muttered a string of curses as she pulled out the souffle from the oven, perilously placing them on the rack, there was a moment of silence as the two women stared at the tray before bursting into laughter.

"They're hideous!" Carla exclaimed as she prodded one of the souffle, it was a congealed and acrid mess. "How are they both gooey and burnt, I haven't messed up a souffle since I was in my teens." She turned to Janeway, prodding her finger in her direction "I blame you. You are cursed." She attempted to prise away the dessert from its casing, and it crumbled apart, Carla nodded definitively. "Yes. Bad juju in the air."

Janeway continued to laugh "Bad juju" she held up her hands in surrender "I have always been a child of the twenty-fourth century, I don't think you can blame me for the failure of your antiquated recipe."

"Antiquated! Kathryn, you techno snob!" Carla flung a piece of burnt chocolate at her "Luckily, we have ice cream, and I am pretty sure I stashed some cake somewhere."

"You stash away cake?" Kathryn couldn't hide the scepticism from her tone.

"Kathryn, men are beasts, and I have two of them." Carla's face was now severe and her chin set "Also, I do not share the cake. I tend not to share desserts as a rule of thumb. I love Mark, and I love Kevin, don't get me wrong." She had disappeared into the recesses of the freezer "I would die for my husband and child. Honestly hand on heart, I would die for them, but it will be a cold day in hell before I share my cake with them." Carla ended by swivelling on her toes to face her with her hand on her hip to drive home how serious she was being. "Now for the cake!" Janeway had to bite back more laughter, especially when the woman began balancing the ice cream tubs in one arm and plates of cake in the other. "Grab the wine, Kathy."

"Something tells me I am not making it back to mine before eleven." She said as she settled herself onto the chaise, languishing in its softness.

"Oh, perish the thought. Now fill up those glasses and let's chat."

Kathryn sighed, she couldn't tell Carla about Starfleet business, she couldn't tell anyone really, and she supposed that was for the best, after all these people around her, they loved her. What good would it do to worry them, they were civilians, and there was not much in the way of input they could offer, and she had been through far worse. An anonymous message, missing people, cloak and dagger tactics, while it was all rather every day for her, she doubted Carla, Phoebe, Mark, and her mother would approve. It was a gift in disguise really, to have something other than Starfleet to talk about Kathryn had to go out into the real world and do things. She had taken up tennis again, joined a local club, and she had met up with several friends from her academy days, attended weddings and anniversary parties. She regaled a rather particular incident where she met up with one of her Orion friends, who took her to a wedding that resulted in both of them ending up thirty sheets to the wind. They had gotten blind drunk on Orion rum and ended the night dancing the dance of the 'Orion Slave Girl' on the dancefloor with the bride.

"You're friends with an Orion? That is not an easy feat women don't tend to like them, for obvious reasons."

Kathryn nodded "Ah, you mean the seduction and pheromones, that was never a problem. Plus we never went after the same cadets in our academy days. Her name is Arenia." Kathryn caught Carla's expression and stopped mid-sentence "What?"

"I would have paid good money to see that."

Kathryn swatted Carla's arm "I used to be fun you know, I know I may not seem it, but I was a real hoot."

"I do not doubt it, had I never met you, and I would only have Mark's description of you, which wasn't exactly technicolour."

"Do I want to know how he described me?" She asked, picking up her glass for courage.

"It was nothing terrible; the exact opposite it was glowing." Carla paused, trying to find the right words "He described you as an adventurer, honest, brave. A rule stickler, driven yet passionate. And brilliant, he spoke of all achievements, both physical and academic. Practically perfect really. It seems a little Mary Sue now, but at the time it was incredibly intimidating, I didn't know how I was to ever going to measure up to your memory. I'm ashamed to admit that I would get jealous whenever he dared to mention you." Kathryn looked as if she was about to interrupt, but Carla held up her hand "But that was fairly early on in the relationship when things were new, you know? When you're uncertain of yourself. He can be forgiven, of course; you did disappear for seven years, and all he had left were his memories. And I needed to be less insecure."

"Memory is notoriously unreliable, and I suppose he painted me with a rose tint. I assure you I am nothing close to perfect."

"I know that now, having met you and having spoken to Phoebe" both women smirked at each other. Phoebe loved her 'embarrassing Janeway stories' she stated that they were much-needed excerpts that needed to be told to balance out her Starfleet façade. "You are more than that, a woman who got into trouble more often than not, someone who often broke the rules and had a bit of a wild side. Caring and charming, loyal, and kind. You have a lot of facets it seems, and they change depending on who you are with." Carla poured more wine into Kathryn's glass and cut another slice of cake for herself "And I am entirely glad for it, it makes you human, and it's one of the reasons I adore you. Behind all that Starfleet brass Kathryn you are so incredibly human and normal. You're planting tomatoes for goodness sake, illegally mind you."

"They aren't illegal."

"You're in Starfleet accommodation, and I'm pretty sure turning the balcony into a mini garden is against regulations and with Talaxian seeds no less. I'm a botanist Kathy I know for a fact that they aren't approved." They laughed again "You're going to have to give me a few, as hush money." Carla had a point, and it wasn't exactly on the mandated list of cleared activities for the building. Her balcony was practically its little ecosystem, but she had needed a hobby that didn't work her into a frenzied state. As enjoyable as tennis was, she had a penchant for perfection and a tendency to get hyper-competitive. Gardening soothed her from the marrow outwards, and there was something more it gave her, but it was something she was not quite ready to admit yet. "And while out there the world sees you as 'The' Admiral Janeway, to me you're just Kathryn. You're Kathy."

"It has been a while since anyone saw me as just that" Kathryn grabbed Carla's hand, squeezing it slightly "Thank you, Carla." At that moment a tiny voice called from the doorway, and there was little Kevin Hobbes, a tyrant by the admission of both his parents, who also happened to be utterly smitten with Kathryn.

"I heard laughing." he lazily rubbed the sleep from his eyes. When his bleary brown eyes finally settled on the sofa they lit up "Aunt Kathy is here?!" he looked towards his mother angrily. Shocked that she dared to sit there, quite comfortably with his favourite person and not wake him "Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded. He marched with purpose, across the room, teddy bear in hand and clambered onto the sofa, settling himself onto Kathryn's lap. "Hello."

"Hello there Kevin, sorry we woke you."

"Okay, not your fault." He looked at his mother accusingly, and she was to him in that moment a traitor and Kathryn let out more laughter as he graced his mother with a scowl that could freeze time. Then he turned to Kathryn, and she was greeted with the sweetest smile, Carla rolled her eyes, the boy honestly was dramatically inclined.

"Kevin, sweetheart, you are tired, go back to bed."

"Uh ah" he muttered, yawning all the while as his eyes fought to stay open, he snuggled further into Kathryn's arms "Not tired."

"Clearly, why don't you just sit here with me and keep me company until you are tired then," Janeway said as she grabbed a blanket and covered them both and unconsciously began stroking his head. "Does that sound like a plan?" she asked, his head gave a subtle nod, an indication that the war on sleep he was battling was already lost, soon soft deep breathing periodically interrupted with little snores echoed throughout the room.

"You ever think of having one or perhaps an army of 'em?" Janeway contemplated telling her about the cluster of lizard-like creatures she and Tom had produced and decided against it. She wouldn't even know where to start, let alone end with that story.

"And pray tell, who exactly would I have them with?"

"Wasn't there anyone on _Voyager._ I don't know about the rules and regs out there, but surely you could have bent the rules a little."

"Could have. Maybe even should have but I never did. I didn't think it was the right thing to do; after all, I oversaw these people and was infinitely more protective than I would have been had it been a regular mission. A relationship would have been a problem, maybe not for him but most certainly for me." she shifted Kevin in her arms so that he knew fully draped over her front. "There's so much water under the bridge with me, and relationships and things never seem to go well."

"Well, you have a date tomorrow."

"How do you all know this; is there some grapevine I need to trim?"

"You told Phoebe, who told B'Elanna and me in a conference call and Tom happened to be in the kitchen, and I am pretty sure he overheard something."

"Tom Paris never happens to be anywhere. He was eavesdropping, and now the whole of the delta quadrant probably knows." She looked down at Kevin's sleeping face, and he honestly did look angelic asleep, she had once told Tom that she had indeed wanted to have children, as to what possessed her to say to him that escaped her. Well, not really, she had been open at the beginning of their journey, and she hadn't fully cemented herself as a captain yet, she had wanted it all once. A husband, children, a dog, and a front porch with a tree that they could climb. That seemed so far away from her now; she wondered whether she had sacrificed too much on the altar of service and honour. "I should probably head home before I fall asleep with this one right here." Carla nodded, and both women slowly and quietly rose to their feet, Carla went ahead, and Kathryn stared at Kevin a little while longer.

_Hopefully,_ she thought.

* * *

Kathryn plopped herself on her sofa and reminisced over the last hours she spent with Carla, _I should call him _she thought offhandedly, her thoughts from this morning, and her chat with Carla had given her some perspective. They were still friends, and even if they had drifted, space couldn't truly break what they had. There was too much blood, sweat, and tears between them both and as a juvenile, as it sounded, he was more than that, he was her best friend, the closest thing to her heart aside from her family. A huff of frustration threatened to escape, and friends look out for one another. While on paper she had done precisely that, making sure that he would be exonerated, receive counselling, spearheaded his application for Captain, she had to admit she hadn't been there in actuality. She was always in the background, pulling strings.

She sat at the viewscreen at the table and was about to tap the screen when the PADD that was haphazardly resting on the table caught her eye. As lovely of a reprieve from the earlier drama of the day and Carla's had been it was just that, a break and now reality was settling in, and the PADD on her coffee table was taunting her. _This is a nightmare_ Janeway thought to herself before she had left the apartment she had been working on the PADD, she had been hard at it for two hours and had yielded nothing. Cybernetics was not her area of expertise and judging by the flashing screen and error message it never would be. She brought her attention back to the view screen and tapped the screen a bright smile on her face.

"Hello."

* * *

Sveta was not a morning person, and she had never been a morning person. What would it take for someone to propose a bill that the working day should start at noon? Sveta, knew if such a thing ever happened she'd be first in line at the polling station, demanding that person become the leader of the confederation. Yet here she was at Di Marco's at eight in the morning, she questioned who was even up this early, what sad creature functioned on sunlight and early hours? Bringing the espresso cup to her lips, she downed it in one, before flagging the barista "Another and make it a double and one black filter." He nodded before slinging the table towel across his shoulders and disappearing. It was then she spotted her companion; she was hard to miss even with her diminutive stature, the gait, the stride of purpose, and the shock of auburn hair.

"Hey there Red, I'm over here." Sveta called. The woman looked perplexed for a moment a glance around the coffee shop informed her that there was no one else around her that had anything significantly resembling that colour, they were all dressed in shades blacks and browns.

"Svetlana Korepanova, it is a pleasure to meet you, finally." Holding out her hand the woman smiled brightly "I am Vice Admiral Janeway and-"

"I know who you are Red, take a seat." She waved to the seat opposite her as the barista arrived with their order and promptly disappeared "I took the liberty of ordering for you, black filtered?"

"Yes, that's right, how did you know?"

"I have my ways, which I assume is why we are here on the other side of town meeting at this ungodly hour. So Red what can I do for you? I have to admit you were the last person I expected on my viewscreen two days ago."

"Before we begin, I have to ask, why are you calling me Red?"

Sveta smiled, a broad grin baring her perfect white teeth, she sat back on her chair and regarded Janeway with catlike intrigue "At the banquet when your ex-borg was being hounded by that crowd, you charged over like a bull. Have you ever watched documentaries from the 21st century about bullfighting?" Sveta asked, she gave Janeway a moment to respond and downed the shot, not missing her partners' impressed smirk. "Well, an outdated sport, in short men" she rolled her eyes "Callled Matadors would wave a red cloak in front of a bull, irritating the creature goading it. And then, when it was pissed enough, it would attack. That's what you reminded me off that night at the homecoming banquet, an enraged bull that saw red, you went straight for that crowd, no hesitation and no prisoners. Red hair, red temper, I thought it was well suited."

Kathryn had the decency to blush, as she remembered her reaction at the night of the banquet, she tended to charge first and think later, then there was the unique way Sveta was regarding her, with a Cheshire like grin. "And she turns red too!" Sveta slapped the table and laughed "See it suits you, and please call me Sveta, the only person who calls me Svetlana is my mother."

"All right, Sveta." Janeway rested her hands on the table, eyes severe, and suddenly Sveta was intrigued. She had heard all about the infamous Voyager captain who championed her way through the Delta quadrant from the news; she had gotten more information from the letters Chakotay and sent and a little extra from her research. When Kathryn Janeway was involved things tended to get a bit interesting and lot more dangerous, and Sveta lived for that kind of thrill. "What I am going to ask you isn't exactly legal."

"The best things in life rarely are." she watched as Janeway produced a PADD and slid it to her side of the table.

"I need to find out if you can retrieve the files that have been deleted on this PADD, the last file that was deleted was two days ago under the name Claire T'Faal."

"So, the other files, what am I looking for?"

"They should be under the missing person's report."

"Is that it?"

"No, I need to know if you can" Janeway paused and Sveta got the distinct feeling that the woman was in two minds about what she was going to ask next, she could see the internal struggle even if it was fleeting. "I need to know if you can hack into Starfleet's mainframe with regards to the following officers, Captain Logan Fitzwilliam Grey, Admiral Kenneth Montgomery, and Ensign Tristan Maine and cross-reference their files to the ones that have been deleted. That is if you happen to retrieve them. I am looking for any indications of research they might have undertaken that involved _Voyager_ and Borg technology."

"Oh Red, this is more than illegal, this is mutinous. I knew I liked you" Sveta clapped her hands together "But how do you know you can trust me? Better yet, how do I know I can trust you? No offence but a Fleeter asking a Marquis for help, it's unprecedented, for all I know this a set up."

"You don't, much like I don't." she sighed heavily "But Chakotay trusts you, he spoke of you on _Voyager,_ and he did so with incredible fondness and with the highest regard. If he trusts you, so do I.

Sveta held up her hand and stopped Janeway "He spoke of me? To you?"

"Yes, I consider him a close friend."

"Chakotay doesn't do friends."

"I beg your pardon. You're friends with him, are you not?"

"Yes, but that took a while, he's prickly. You've seen him, all broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, with angry eyes, now imagine that in a resistance group. He was terrifying, and aside from the more brutish Maquis members, he didn't do friends, especially after the attack on Trebus, he was singular minded and driven. I was merely a recruiter; he was brilliant, and I needed him for the cause against the Cardassians. It was all very sterile and professional and remained so for a long time. As we worked together, we developed a friendship. You have to understand that out there it was us up against death every other day, letting yourself get attached, well…" Kathryn nodded she knew all too well about that "And of course we were together for a bit so that torpedoed things slightly." Sveta noted the exasperated eye-roll.

"Another blonde." Janeway muttered, and then she blanched, she was spending far too much time with Carla and Phoebe, her tact had gotten sloppy. _Perhaps it's not you and rather the subject_ her mind offered, but she quickly shut down that train of thought. 

"Ah yes, that would be my doing sorry." She winked at Kathryn salaciously "I take it that on _Voyager_ too, he indulged." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. In all her years on this planet, Sveta had never wanted to laugh more than she did in that exact moment, Janeway's eyes had narrowed significantly, her brow was wrinkled, and nothing could hide the apparent disdain. She made a mental note, next time she saw the Chakotay she would ask the big guy about his conquests out in the Delta quadrant. The reaction Janeway was giving was delicious and there were bound to be explicit stories to be told and Sveta loved a good tale. "He is difficult to get to know." Sveta continued, and it looked to her as if Janeway wanted to disagree, her lips parted slightly and then closed again, having decided to keep whatever she was going to say to herself. "But once you're in, you're in, and he's a good guy at the end of the day. Since you know about me, I will take you for your word. I am not one of Chakotay's friends that he tends to bring up conversationally. He must trust you, but that doesn't mean I have to." She toyed with her cup; eyes playful "So he never mentioned that we dated?"

"Not at all."

"Typical, never giving credit when it's due, I'll give him a ringing. I like to think I was one of the more attractive ones."

"One of the more attractive ones?" Janeway looked incredulous "You know what? It's probably best I don't know. Listen Sveta. I do not have a background in cybernetics, if I did, trust me, I wouldn't be here right now. I certainly wouldn't be involving you. It's risky at best for me but downright apocalyptic for you. However, something is going on in the shadows of Starfleet, and no one is singing. They think that they can placate me with titles and side jobs. I am not a fool, and I will not be the poster girl for Starfleet. I joined this path to help others, and I know the Dominion war has wreaked havoc here, but I will not turn my back on all that I standby. Nor will I turn a blind eye." She prodded the PADD violently "These people are missing, and I am going to find out why."

"My, that's quite the speech." Sveta held out her hand "Consider me hired."

* * *

Chakotay sat on the sofa staring at B'Elanna with a mix between awe, wonder, and shock. Had anyone told him eight years ago that his brutish, short-tempered engineer would be sat opposite him bouncing a baby on her knee he would have spat out his cider and laughed himself to death and he's pretty confident B'Elanna would have gutted them on the spot. Yet there he was sat on the sofa watching that exact scene play itself out.

"Where have you been old man?"

"It's nice to see that motherhood has mellowed your personality."

"It's nice to see that you still think you have a sense of humour. So, what have you been up to? You dropped off the universe for a few months, we thought about contacting you, but since you were off-world, we thought we'd leave you to it. Took a page out of Kathryn's book."

"Kathryn? And since when did you and the Captain reach first name basis?" he queried. 

B'Elanna grinned brightly and launched into her monologue of all the happenings for the past several months. From Harry's dating life to the Delaney sisters and their new mission into deep space. Chakotay listened rapt but what piqued his interest the most was the friendship that had deepened between the Paris family and their former Captain.

"Would you prefer I call her the captain?" B'Elanna teased "She would call every couple of weeks to check up on Tom, Miral and I. Then she would stop by, the visits increased progressively, she's quite taken by Miral, and it's mutual." Miral gurgled loudly as if in verification "As she's no longer our captain, she insisted we call her Kathryn, fly-boy over there was all for it." she nodded her head over her shoulder to Tom. "But I was a little reticent about it, and she had always been 'The Captain' larger than life, a force to be reckoned with, I suppose I forgot that underneath all that Starfleet red she wore she was human." B'Elanna paused for a moment shuffling Miral into a seated position "She is so goddamn small; did you know that?"

Chakotay burst into laughter, the sentence was so out of left field and said with such seriousness he couldn't help himself "Yes B'Elanna I did."

"Well I never noticed it before, on deck, in the halls, wherever she was, she always appeared several feet tall, and one day we show up at her house, and she's there with her hair down, dressed in a cotton shirt, grey slacks and barefoot. She looked" B'Elanna smiled, a genuine smile that reached her eyes "She looked small, average. It made me realise how much of herself she locked away out there, the person I know now is more complete, I'd say the Captain on_ Voyager_ was one dimension, and now I have a clear picture, she's 3D now."

"I seem to have missed quite a lot."

"You have, so why now? You accepted your commission and captaincy, so I assume you're back for good." She got up and placed Miral in Chakotay's arms and wondered to the kitchen, returning with a tray of tea "Will Seven be joining us for dinner as well?"

"No, Seven is currently still with her aunt." He tugged on his ear and dropped his eyes to Miral, who was busying herself with his buttons "That ended some time ago."

She moved to sit beside him and placed a hand on his arm "Chakotay, I'm sorry."

"Yes, well- wait you are?"

"Of course, old man! What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, the two of you never really got along."

"Ah, yes, well. Don't laugh." She stared at him, seriously reminding him that the Klingon he knew from all those years past was well and truly alive "I think I was jealous."

Tom popped his head around "Think." He held up his hands as he caught his wife's scowl and disappeared again.

"Before Seven, the Captain and I were quite close. Chakotay, this is difficult for me to admit, but she is the closest thing to a mother that I have. She fought for me, championed me with her crew, and never treated me with anything but respect. When I angered or disappointed her she never let that affect our relationship. Then Seven came along, and she had to teach this woman how to" she waved her hands in the air "Everything I suppose. Seven took much of her time, and even you have to admit that, you didn't see her as often either, dinners were less, velocity games disappeared." Chakotay was silent, he had never realized that fact, he could never pinpoint where exactly he and Kathryn had started to drift off, but now it was all clearing, like water through a sieve. "But I'd never let any animosity between her and I colour the way I feel about you Chakotay. You were and continue to be important to me, if Seven was what made you happy then who was I to stand in your way?" Things were getting too emotional, too raw and Chakotay didn't quite feel like facing those demons, so he quirked a brow, pretended to be interested in Miral's bib, and decided to lighten to mood.

"You are lovely B'Elanna."

"Khaless don't say that or I'll gut you right here."

It was at that point Tom returned and settled himself opposite them both, clapped his hands together and crossed his legs. "Commander, you got the PG version of what's been happening, let me fill you in on the actual gossip." Tom Paris certainly did not disappoint, he was right, B'Elanna had been skimping on the details. Chakotay could not help but think if Tom ever decided to forgo a career in Starfleet, he would have made an excellent journalist. "And now I have saved the best for last, our dear Cap-Ad-" he shook his head a started again. "Kathryn" leaning in deep, he rested his elbows on the table and lowered his tone as if he was about to unleash the secrets of the gods to them "Well word from the grapevine is that our dear Kathryn is dating. His name is Captain Grey, though I can neither confirm nor deny that as fact or fiction because" he paused and pointedly looked over at B'Elanna "Because my wife doesn't take her vows seriously and refuses to share her intel with me!"

"Tom, marriage does not equate to a free pass to what I do and don't know."

"Yes, it does, why else does one get married? I show you mine and you show me yours" he turned to his Chakotay, a comrade in arms, the only other holder of the Y chromosome in the room "Commander back me up here."

"I am keeping out of this Tom" Chakotay was glad the conversation had been steered away from his liaison with Seven, but the new topic stirred to life a different kind of tension. He had questions, many questions but could pose none of them; after all, there's only so much friendly inquiry could cover-up. 

"As you should." B'Elanna countered

"Well I know she's dating someone." He crossed his arms, petulant as a child who had been told no "What if he's a no-good nefarious type? I am just looking out for my Captain."

"She's an Admiral now, and as intimidating as you are fly-boy, I am pretty sure the woman who faced down the Borg queen doesn't need you intimidating her suitors. She's perfectly capable of that herself, not to mention the fact that dinner does not equate to dating."

"Ah-huh!" he clapped his hands together, brought back to life by her slip up "So there are suitors, plural, and there have been dinners."

"I give up, go put our daughter to bed."

He conceded and plucked Miral from the commanders' arms, smiling all the while, Tom was no fool, though he may play the part at times. He had been watching the Commander since he had stepped through the threshold and had not missed the light that reached his superior's eyes when B'Elanna had briefly mentioned the Captain's name. Nor did he miss the way he seemed embarrassed about Seven and reluctant to discuss the reason for his return, so he exacted a plan. It was crude and last minute, but he had decided there and then to casually bring up Kathryn's dating life and gauge the reaction, and ladies and gentlemen he had struck oil. The grimace that briefly passed through Chakotay's face when it was mentioned that Kathryn may be dating Captain Grey was an exceptional dining experience. As was the commander's rigidity at the prospect that she was not short of suitors here on the Alpha Quadrant. All Tom wanted was for Kathryn to be happy, whether that was with Chakotay was neither here nor there, what his plans were now that he was not attached to Seven did not interest him. What he did know was that Kathryn had been slowly building herself back up and they had gotten to know, over the last several months, the woman behind the Captain's mask. Somehow she engendered more loyalty as Kathryn than Captain and whether she would ever admit it or not he knew she had hit a low point out there in Delta Quadrant and the last year had been her darkest hour. He didn't particularly like to think about what-ifs, but he could not help but wonder what would have happened to them all had they not returned when they did. Something in his gut assured him it wasn't anything good and it was further backed by the presence of the future Admiral, with all her zeal and broken directives. Whatever the future had held in that timeline was forsaking enough for her to go against every rule in the rule book and that did not go amiss. He may not know what happened 26 years on, but he would be damned if he didn't cherish the time they were given and he would ensure Kathryn would do the same. 

Tom knew that she would never flaunt how settled she was, nor would she admit how hurt she was that she and Chakotay had drifted apart in their friendship. Well, if she wouldn't, then he would undoubtedly do it for her, a little salt in the wounds was necessary. He had always joked that it was B'Elanna who was the staunch defender of their Captain, willing to go above and beyond but now he could see that he was far worse. Tom settled Miral into her crib and stroked the ridges of her forehead "Things are finally looking up for once little one."


	10. Misunderstood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misunderstandings have always been a common place for our command team and time away has not fixed this, whilst Kathryn Janeway accepts her Admiralty, Chakotay looks to reconnect but is he too late?

# Misunderstood

* * *

**You're not safe.**

The sun sat low, golden like a full-bellied Buddha and the sky was that murky shade of Grey you can only get when you wash paintbrushes in acetone, milky, dark, and dreary. Janeway thumbed the paper, staring outwards, she never did fully appreciate the view from her office; from this height, the courtyard below looked like a miniaturist recreation. This view was a world away from the jet of the universe she had been used to, streaked with its flares of technicolour, now it was concrete pavements and grey buildings with an ever-shifting sky.

Looking at the note again, it was the same handwriting, on the same paper, and chances were that forensics wasn't going to dig anything up. She reread the words, scoffing You're** not safe**, had she ever indeed been safe? Her life had and continued to be a series of dangerous disasters, and she seemed to go from one danger point to another continuously. Perhaps her mother and Phoebe had been right all along when they tried to assuage her from the Starfleet route; she could have been artist, like her sister. What if she had done that? She would have gone to one of the old institutions, read a degree in fine arts, Cambridge perhaps. Then she would have graduated and moved to London, opened a gallery, or maybe she would have been a curator, no, art restoration, that's where she would have settled, surrounded by the works of the old masters. What's the worst that could have ever happened to her there? A papercut, a fragment from the paintings she'd behandling. She'd probably be married to a man who taught classics at some distinguished university, and he would smell of leather, resin, and ink. _I would have been safe_ she thought, she continued to stare out the window, watching people go about their morning, yes, she most definitely would have been safe but by god would she have been bored. 

"Who are you?" she muttered, Janeway had checked the video logs, no suspicious persons had been spotted entering or leaving the building, neither had anyone been near her apartment door, yet she held in her hands proof that someone had. She had formulated and dismissed a dozen explanations and was left with nothing.

She drank in the sunlight, letting the heat seep into her skin, she needed to look at this objectively and extrapolate the necessary information, what did she know? She knows that someone is trying to contact her, she knows that they need her help, and now she knows that she is in danger, but it was the worst kind of threat. It was unknown, and she loathed being on the backfoot, _how can you defend yourself against the unknown?_ The answer, you couldn't.

The tell-tale signs of a migraine began creeping in, the tension in her neck and the prickling sensation deep beneath her skull, her mind being pulled in every direction, and her focus always flitting from left to right. She could tell Starfleet Security of the letters. Still, a delivery of 2 messages was hardly enough to warrant security intervention, she knew the protocol system, and there was nothing they would do that she hadn't done already. It was also the least of her problems, she had taken the rather extreme measures and outside enlisted help, rebel alliance help, in the shape of ex-Maquis Sveta Korepanova. Janeway had learned years ago from Chakotay that Sveta was the reason he had entered the Maquis resistance, as one of their top intelligence officers, with the ability to hack into the most national defence programs. According to Chakotay, her essential skills lay in surveillance, monitoring the working of the defence intelligence team, being the one to coordinate with collectors across the quadrants, and evaluated all technical enhancement programs. _If you needed sensitive data acquired, then Sveta was your woman that's_ what he had said, she could recall the night perfectly, it had been after dinner, they had been rehashing war stories. Janeway remembered sitting, reclined and relaxed opposite him, feeling wholly content and comfortable. It had been one of those evenings where they had talked for hours and time had slipped from their minds, he had left at 0400hrs that night, _wrong track Kathryn_ she thought, a reprimand for letting her mind wander. By enlisting Sveta's help, she had firmly crossed the line if she were ever to be found out that would be it for, her rank, her career, her livelihood, all gone. It was disarming how easily she accepted those consequences, she had always been an all or nothing type or 'ride or die' as Tom liked to say. Her moral compass was unyielding and unrelenting, in the face of what was right. Kathryn knew she would throw all protocol out the window. Ensign Maine was a bust, but perhaps an appeal to Grey's better sense would be more fruitful, they had grown close, there was a careful camaraderie that existed between the two of them, it had potential, for what? That remained unclear. It was the making of something, and there lay the tragedy of it all because at the end of the day they didn't trust one another. That distrust hung about them like a noxious gas, suffocating that potential and reminding them of the reality of their situations. Once bitten now twice shy, Janeway had been willingly deceived before, once upon a time when she was young and stupid and had believed in second, third, and fourth chances. A time where there was trust to give, willingly, blindly and she had forgiven the indiscretion, mollified by the justifications she was given, at the end of that shameful saga she had found herself broken, never again.

Her eyes fell to the clock, it was just past seven, and it was then that it had occurred to her that she had been in her office for five hours, how long had she been staring out the window listlessly? Settling the note in her drawer she made for the science wing, Decan wasn't due for another hour and her schedule for the day was practically bare, given that tonight was the promotion ceremony. She loved Starfleet HQ at this time; it was empty and silent, no rushing of bodies or disembodied voices echoing through the halls, it was peaceful, so much so that she decided against the turbo-lift. It was a rare opportunity to wander through these hallowed halls that she had revered since childhood, and poignant that it would be on the day of her official promotional ceremony. The day she would officially retire the title of Captain, and the day _Voyager _would no longer be hers. A ship that was no longer hers belonging to a man that was no longer hers, she chuckled, her laughter reverberating down the halls, you had to appreciate the hilarity of the situation. She had managed to work through all the stages of grief, it had been difficult, but she had come through on the other side, not entirely unscathed but undoubtedly alive. Janeway always knew that she would, but she could not help but wonder when it was precisely that had her life taken the form of a tragic Shakespearean narrative.

Grey's department came into sight, and from the corridor spied that he was alone in his office, mug in hand as he stared out the window, they were eerily similar in both mannerism and demeanour. He settled the cup down and ran a tired hand through his hair before exiting his office, by the time he had reached the workbench she had reached the front door. "Permission to enter the premises," she said, as she strode through the threshold.

"Ah, Admiral, permission granted." He waved her in and looked up from the bench "What brings you in at this unholy hour, should you not have taken the day off, primp and prepare for the festivities?"

"Never been one to primp and I was restless, I have been here since before dawn."

"Funny, as have I. Ghosts keeping you up?" he replied, noting that he was always juxtaposed, he never looked the way he sounded, when he appeared content and happy, he seemed low and fatigued. When he looked tired and despondent, as he did now, he sounded jovial and satisfied; she wondered if he was aware of this quirk if anyone was aware aside from her.

"Something like that. Need any help?"

"Always" he handed her a micro-screwdriver and then rounded around the table and took position in front of her, their eyes met, there was no heat, no electricity, green eyes scrutinised blue and vice versa. The distrust she was now used to willed itself to live, settling between them, as they sized each other up, trying to gauge what the other knew, his hands brought the magnification visor over her head. There was no doubt that Ensign Maine had spoken to him after the evening of their confrontation because gone was their easy banter. Neither spoke as he continued his ministrations, checking the fit as he fiddled with the equipment when he was done, his hands settled on her shoulders. "Ready for battle?"

"There's never a moment I'm not." She quipped. This was a commonplace for them, the doublespeak.

"I will work on the diagnostic nanobots; I will leave the surgical nanobots to you." He said and returned to his side of the bench and prepped himself for the work ahead. The nanobots were microscopic ranging from 0.1-10 micrometres and roughly the size of a red blood cell. The idea had been coined in the 21st century. Still, they didn't have the technology to work on such a microscopic level, at the time they were too small to add a traditional robotic element like a motor, computer chip, or cameras._ Voyager _bringing home Borg technology meant that they could speed up the advancement and Janeway's intimate knowledge on their application and use was integral, they could fast track surgical advancement a couple of decades. The idea was that the nanobots would be injected into the bloodstream and could be programmed to target any number of tissues. She had been given the abridged project report, she had asked for the original thesis paper and retroactive studies, but Admiral Montgomery had quickly shut her down, stating irrelevance.

They worked in silence for hours in perfect synchronicity, acknowledging subtle shifts in body movements, handing each other equipment, they worked horrifically well together. This was the tragedy she had been thinking of earlier. It was noon when they finally stopped, neither realising how long they had been working, and as they removed their visors and adjusted to their surroundings they were greeted by the hustle and bustle of the lab. They walked towards his office and fell into superficial joviality, trying to ignore the tension between them. It was then she decided that they needed to talk, they couldn't keep circling each other, like lions primed for attack. She was ready to open discussions when he received a COMM; Admiral Montgomery had requested his presence immediately, Kathryn silently blustered, that man had the most brilliant timing.

"I'll see you tonight." He said, and there it was again, the pleasant tone and the haunted face. He strode over to the farthest corner of the room; she had never noticed that he had a turbo-lift installed. A nod to how much he was valued, very few were privy to such luxuries, even in the Admiralty. Grey disappeared behind the sliding doors leaving her alone in his office, she stood there for some seconds, massaging the back of her neck, she was about to turn and head out when something familiar caught her eye. It sat there, bold and defiant against the glass table, she quickly threw a glance to the lab below, no one was paying attention, she stepped closer to the desk and picked up the slip of paper.

**IT'S YOUR FAULT.**

* * *

They were in the same hall as the welcome banquet was held.

Usually, these ceremonies were held in Starfleet uniform, but as it was the crew of _Voyager_, the PR department had decided to forgo that tradition. It was more pomp and fanfare than needed, but Chakotay could see where their heads were at, he knew that many were divided against Starfleet after the war. Yet out there, amongst the people, they were hailed as heroes and Kathryn was their star. He mingled with the crew members, toasted to his promotion, accepted the congratulations and pats on the back, before spotting Tom, B'Elanna, and Harry near the bar.

"Not bad, huh?" he said, briefly turning to the bartender and ordering his drink.

"Starfleet is milking the _Voyager _crew for all their worth, no expense has been spared," said Tom. He nodded his head to the bar "Open bar, buffet, and accommodation for the crewmen who have transported in especially for today. Not to mention the media circus camped outside."

The music died down, and a disembodied voice announced the presence of the Admirals, the massive doors were thrust open and they filed in two by two, the men in black tie and the women in their gowns, he wasn't interested in any but one. Then he caught sight of her, the last time he was here he had been suitably distracted, much of his time had been split between his Maquis comrades and Seven, he had only caught glimpses of Kathryn that night. Now that he thought about it, they didn't speak at all that entire evening; briefly, and he wondered whether she had looked as she did now then and if she had, how was it possible he missed it. The door closed, and the sound of violins increased, and the admirals scattered off, mingling amongst the guests, his eyes followed Kathryn, it was impossible to miss her. She was a dream, an ethereal creature, gracefully viridescent in a long-sleeved dress that was cut close to her body. As she turned, her auburn hair bounced gently about her, with a few wisps managing to escape their confines, only to brush over her flushed cheeks. Their eyes met for an instant; he was about to take a step forward but was halted by someone gently grabbing his arm and then she looked away, turning her back to him. He noted the bare skin, the slight indentations of vertebrae visible on the creamy skin, a stark contrast to the green of her dress.

"Commander." He knew that voice; it had once been a voice he associated with his future; it was difficult to tear his eyes away from the woman in front of him.

"Seven, I was wondering when you were going to get here." He pulled her into a hug, where before she would have stiffened at contact, now she quickly relented and hugged back, time spent with her aunt was doing her well. He pulled away, and his hands remained on her arms "How are you?" he asked. She smiled, and it was one that fully reached her eyes, she launched into a very detailed monologue, he was glad to see that that aspect of her hadn't changed, it was quite endearing how she included all details no matter how foolish. The night progressed smoothly; however, Kathryn was a difficult person to pin, she was like water, flowing from one side of the room to the other, never in the same place twice or for long. He decided that the night was young, and he would speak with her later in the evening and contented himself with drinking, dancing, and overall merriment, it wasn't every day that one was made Captain.

Once more the music died down, and the lights dimmed, one by one the Admirals aligned themselves in line on stage, Admiral Paris took to the centre and launched into a speech. It was a heartfelt monologue detailing Kathryn's life from cadet to Captain. It included a story of a young, hot-headed cadet cornering him in his office demanding he oversees her thesis. When it was over, he held his hand over his heart and stared dead ahead, to where Chakotay assumed Kathryn stood, he called her name and rank, summoning her onto the stage. The room erupted into applause with a couple of whistles, hoots and howls, to which he was sure came from Ayala and Tom. Kathryn stepped elegantly onto the stage, dress in hand, cheeks glowing, and lips pulled into a bright wide grin. Admiral Paris presented her with her pin and called for another round of applause. There were more cheers followed by the flashes of cameras, while the other Admirals congratulated her. When the crowd had died down Kathryn took position by Admiral Paris and started calling out the names of recently promoted crewmen. One by one, she called them up, presented them with their pins, and sent them off, when she had called out Tom's name everyone waited with bated breath. True to form and ever the comedian, no one was surprised as he sauntered onto the stage, only to turn at the last minute to face the crowd. He raised his arms, spreading them wide before, for enhanced dramatic effect, he paused and fell into an exaggerated bow. 

"Never thought you'd all be witness to this, did you?" he quipped, before turning towards Kathryn and accepting his pin. He gave her a toothy grin and boldly leaned in and placed a kiss on the newly minted Admirals cheek, earning himself a slap on the arm for his troubles. Then she called out Harry's name, and the room erupted into sharp barks, his promotion had been a long time coming, the poor thing was getting thumped and patted on the back by every crewman en-route to the stage. Chakotay watched her eyes crinkle fondly as Harry nervously took position in front of her, she was like a mother bolstering with pride as she placed the pin on his lapel. When she was done, she pulled the young man down to her level, so that she could kiss his cheek before straightening his bow tie for him. The blush that adorned Harry's face was an absolute treat. "Favouritism, if I ever did see it!" Tom yelled from the back, pulling more laughter from the room.

Then it was his name.

"Amal Kotay, Chakotay." She called.

He stepped onto the podium, almost a year since they had been this close to one another, he walked confidently over to her and looked down, not sure what he was expecting to see reflected in her eyes. His heart rate increased, there was nothing but unequivocal delight there, she placed the pips on his lapel and settled her hand on his chest, it was an action that had been performed countless times before, one that had petered out during the last leg of their journey. Unable to deny himself, his hand followed suit and settled above hers, preventing its retreat. There was nothing he wanted more than to curl his fingers around her hand and pull her flush towards him. He continued to stare into her eyes, unable to contain his smile, and when she reciprocated, it was as if, for a moment, there was nothing but the two of them in that room. Nothing but the warmth of her hand, the blue of her eyes and the smile on her lips.

"I am unbelievably proud of you." She said.

* * *

Kathryn needed air.

The hall was crowded with bodies, and the champagne was taking its toll on her, the night had been fantastic. Even if it was all a publicity stunt to showcase some of the better aspects of Starfleet to the masses, she weaved effortlessly through the crowds, an advantage of her slight frame and made for the balcony on the far side of the room, and she could see from her distance that it was unoccupied, when she reached her destination she finally let out a sigh of relief. She welcomed the cold air and walked towards the edge of the balcony, taking in the gardens below.

"So, this is where you ran off to." there was no mistaking that English lilt, she cocked her head to the side and eyed her companion.

"Just needed a moment." She said.

"I don't blame you."

Grey joined her by the balcony and stared out with her, and they were silent for a few moments and Kathryn warred with herself, should she take this for what it was, enjoy his company or should she press the matter she wanted to address this morning.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Kathryn." his tone was exasperated and warning as he kept his gaze schooled ahead.

"I'm a newly minted Admiral, it's all official, surely you can tell me now." She turned to face him "Or shall I tell you what I know? I know that you are lying to me. I know that you and Admiral Montgomery are unnaturally interested in the application of Borg technology. I know that the missing person reports are somehow connected. I know that there is a cover-up." The words were escaped her mouth in cold, crisp precision, she was stating facts not opinions, and she was not looking for him to verify or deny the information, simply to acknowledge that she was now in the loop. He let out a deep sigh and turned to face her, stepping into her personal space.

"I often think what it would have been like had we met under different circumstances" he took hold of her hand and pulled her closer "I think we could have been something remarkable, I know that I could have fallen in love with you and something tells me you would have fallen for me too." He gave a bitter laugh before continuing "But the trust was never fully there and why should it be, I never lied to you, Kathryn, I just was not truthful."

"There's a difference?"

"Yes, there is. I should have known. You're far too intelligent to be outwitted. And I" he released her hand at that point and gestured to himself, he was the picture of abject misery "I was bound by duty and ignorance. I must admit I didn't trust you either at first, and I listened to the wrong people. People who see enemies in every shadow and war on a clear day, my gut said to trust you, yet I ignored it and looked where we are." he waved his hands between them, and Kathryn didn't know how to respond. There were no words; she could offer nothing, no solace nor comfort for the painful truth. He was right, there could have been something between them, but his deception had marred him, and her trust once lost was challenging to claw back. "We may have missed our stop as lovers, but I'd like to think we could be friends that we are friends. You have somehow managed to coax your way in despite my best efforts and as a friend, trust me when I say that you must stay out of this, for now."

"I am afraid that won't be possible," she said if he thought she was going to be natural brush off, quick to calm he was in for a rude awakening.

"Kathryn listen to me; I will bring you up to speed I promise. It's just that right now there are too many sinews. I do not report to you."

"Montgomery is who you report to, isn't it? He is involved with this?"

"Kathryn please." He begged tiredly, and it was then she brought her hand to his stubbled cheek, and she felt him lean into her touch, eyes closed in exhaustion. Whatever had been occurring behind the scenes was draining him, and for the first time since they'd met, she could tell that he was honest with her, his tone now matched his expression. 

"You called me a friend" she implored "we help our friends Logan." Her other hand came up to rest on the other side of his face, willing him to believe that he was not alone in this "I help my friends. You may ask me to stay out, but if I have a feeling that you're in danger, that we're in danger, I am not going to sit idly by. That note on your desk, I received one too, and now that I know something is indeed going on, I am afraid to say that I will be attached to you like a Ferengi Virus."

"You received a note too?" he asked, she nodded in response and was about to expand when he thrust her hands away from him, the action angry and violent as if she had burnt him. She watched in confusion as he distanced himself, eyes darkening and mouth thinning, she thought this would have been a comfort to him, an acknowledgement that they were in this together. "You may outrank me on paper, but when it comes to this Kathryn, I outrank you. You will leave this alone, or I will make you leave it alone."

"Is that a threat?" she seethed. Gone was her distress and concern, with a single sentence he had forsaken himself. Her anger was bolstering through unfiltered and raw, never one to take kindly to threats, the rage boiled in her blood. It came off her in waves, escaping through her pores, there she was, offering to help and there he stood threatening her in return. This was not where she thought the conversation would end but damned if he thought she would baulk out now.

"It can be."

Then he was gone and once more she was left alone gazing outwards.

* * *

Chakotay spotted Kathryn, she was making her way over to the balcony, he grabbed two champagne flutes and followed suit, but before he could join her, he spotted a tall dark-haired man. Captain Grey was all angles and height, the evening Chakotay had visited the Paris' Tom had pulled up Grey's file on Starfleet's records. Tom had been incurably curious after B'Elanna had refused to divulge and indulge him. The man's career was impeccable, he levelled Kathryn in the sciences, and Chakotay could see the attraction. The high brow and chiselled bone structure, he was urbane and dignified a stark contrast to himself. Here was a man who was the epitome excellent breeding, clear cut, and refined with sharp edges. While he was rough where it should have been smooth, unpolished, and raw, he continued to watch as the Captain followed behind her. Not easily deterred, he continued to wade through the crowd and stopped at a careful distance. Far enough to allow them some privacy but close enough to see events unfold. Chakotay observed with bitterness, Grey sidle himself next to her whilst leaning on his forearms. Kathryn acknowledged Grey with a lazy grin, and he tried to dispel the tightening in his chest, but it was determined to exist. The feeling crept into his throat and choked him slowly; he was all but breathless by the time he spied the Captain take her hand.

Grey turned to face her and gently pulled her in close, peering intensely into her eyes, _lo__ok away, you masochist,_ his mind urged. _L__ook __away, _but his body gave staunch refusal, he continued to watch the couple. Kathryn was close enough now that if Grey were to lean down a fraction, their lips would meet. Neither she nor the Captain made any move to do so and curiously he let her go. Chakotay watched with perverse fascination, knowing that had it been him and had Kathryn been in his arms, he wouldn't have been able to release her. As Kathryn placed her hands on Grey's face, the grip around the flutes tightened,he really should have walked away, the idea to do so echoed in the background. Yet, he found himself rooted steady, as if he'd been planted there. Grey's eyes fluttered to a close, and he leaned into her touch, there was an air desperation about them. As if she were trying to convince him of something and he was trying not to relent to something else. Chakotay regarded her face thoughtfully, she looked thoroughly agitated, unlike the Captain he had always known and very much like a woman. A woman, in love, a woman in the throes of an intense love affair. Enough was enough, and he turned his back to them, there had never been a moment between the two of them that had ever existed like that. He could not recall a time where she had looked at him with desperation alight in her eyes and fear in her stance. He had lost her, and he'd have no one to blame but himself, with his broken promises and ill-timed epiphanies. What did he expect? For her to pine, moon and stay chaste while he dabbled away, he had given up, and she had moved on. The Earth continued to spin even if you weren't on it and time stopped for no man. He resigned himself to the notion of friendship, that's where they started, and that's where they would end. He may not have liked it, he loathed it, but he would have to accept it. 

As he made to step away someone knocked into him, he was quick enough with his reflexes to save the champagne, he looked up and recognised the man instantly. The same man who had held Kathryn in his arms mere minutes ago now stood in front of him, looking like thunder and lightning. He muttered an apology and disappeared through the crowd, turning his attention back to the balcony, he noticed that Kathryn remained outside. Her head resting on her hands, elbows in turn on the stonework, the breeze blew about her, causing her hair to dance and her dress to billow. She belonged out there amongst the stars and the full moon, as comfortable as she seemed in the hall it didn't fit, she suited the darkness. It didn't seem much of a compliment, and he was sure if he had ever said as much to her, she would have had one or two choice words for him, but it was true.

She was shrouded by darkness and bathed in moonlight, hauntingly beautiful, and that's what she did to him, haunt him, his dreams and thoughts. With her head tipped upwards he could help but feel as if there was something wrong; it was in the way she stood, the tension in her back and the dejected way she pushed herself to stand upright. Her arms wrapped themselves around her waist, an action he had never seen her perform in their seven years together and that age-old tug in his chest, the one he had silenced until recently urged him to take action. She looked forlorn, and for the life of him, he could not bring himself to walk away.


	11. Telvik's Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chakotay has decided that there are few ghosts that need facing and he asks Janeway to accompany him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just setting the scene Folks pure JC from next chapter onward, the confessions shall arrive in full force.  
Apologies for the radio silence, but when I am not writing I am tackling the world of med school, bare with me though, I will finish this fic.

# Telvik's Moon

* * *

Admiral Janeway and Captain Chakotay of _U.S.S. Voyager _had spent three days together, in a ship that he jokingly referred to as the "Alpha Flyer" they had settled into old habits quickly. Laughter filled the space, reminiscent of their old journey, as the ship zipped through the quadrant as if they hadn't been separated by time and space this last year. He had yet to tell her where they were headed, and no amount of prodding and probing on her part seemed to weaken his resolve, so she complied. Not quietly mind, Janeway took great delight in making a show of her displeasure at his vow of silence. Now there was a pleasant hush that had settled between them, and it left her alone with her thoughts. Janeway had sunk deep into the recesses of her mind, comfortably sunken into her seat, feet propped up on the console. This is what had been missing, and she could admit to missing _Voyager,_ the evening of the promotional ceremony had proved it, she missed the crew, the sounds of the vessel and the feel of the chairs. It was the inane details that haunted her, but more than anything she had missed the starfields, those blazing lights, her night-time companions when her mind was unsettled, and her soul was yearning. There were no stars to fall to sleep with now that she was planet-side. Taking in those brilliant spectres of light, she could hardly believe that this was the first time since she had stepped off _Voyager _that she had been back in space. Admirals rarely needed to leave the planet, let alone their desks, and they were in control of the world from a high rise building. If she were honest, she needed the reprieve, there was a large part of her that was wounded by their journey, and she needed time to breathe, stop, think and reassess whether Starfleet was where she wanted to be. She couldn't do that when she was out there, and it would have seduced and tempted her as it was doing now. There was undeniable pull that the jet of the universe and their bright galaxies had on her, and she would have promptly forgotten just how much of herself she sacrificed in the name of survival. It had taken a year, and a friend with a request for her to conclude that Starfleet was what she wanted, and God help her for it.

Janeway turned her head back to the starfields, as pleasant as it felt to be back, and for all the joviality that had transpired in the last seventy-two hours, she still couldn't understand what she was doing here. Kathryn knew how she got here, it was the night of the promotional ceremony and Chakotay had shown up at the balcony with champagne, she recalled feeling utterly desolate and frustrated in that moment and true to form he showed up. Always. Always, when she was at her most vulnerable and open, only then did he ever appear, like a spirit summoned and attuned to her soul, on _Voyager _it had been frustrating but now it was a comfort. She no longer had to put on a front now, holding for the first time in eight years the freedom to be as truthful and open as she pleased and not let command dictate their friendship. Not that it made a difference, the timing had never been theirs to master. No sooner had they clinked their glasses together, had the announcement that was captain _Voyager _was the moment interrupted. Frustrating as it was, she couldn't be angry at the drunken crew members who burst through the balcony doors. There was hooting and hollering and a call for their ex command team to join the merriment. Within seconds Janeway was whisked away to the hall, to toast, celebrate and drink. She didn't see him again for the rest of the evening, and when she finally retired for the night, she acknowledged that she probably wouldn't be seeing him for quite some time. Between the Dominion war losses, the missions, and rebuilding plans he was sure to be off-world for the next year or more, perhaps it was for the best. Her life had been complicated enough since her return, and she didn't need to re-open old wounds, inflame the skin, and muse over battle scars. Just as she had finished packing all thoughts of her former first officer away, her Comm chirped.

* * *

_ "Hi," she said, feeling her lips stretch into a grin, how serendipitous she thought, and then she recalled one of the old sayings her father was fond of' speak of the devil, and he shall appear' and my, did he appear. Chakotay's familiar face filled her view screen, and his eyes danced with humour._

_"Couldn't sleep?" He asked._

_"Nope."_

_"Funny, me neither."_

_"Too quiet. No Borg attacks at all."_

_"Know what you mean. And no starfields to go to sleep by." She smirked, shaking her head, he knew her too well. "We didn't get a chance to talk, did we?" _

_She shook her head, they hadn't but then again what was there to say? What could she say? And did she want to hear it? His smile faded slightly._

_"What is it?" Janeway asked. Years together as command team had meant mutual recognition of every micro-expression, a gift, and a curse; there were few things they could hide from each other, not that it was impossible if the situation required it._

_"I'm planning on taking a trip shortly," he said. "A significant one. I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me."_

* * *

Now here she was, sitting, acting the part of the first officer as he piloted the ship, a role reversal she never anticipated. They had spoken a lot but about very little, most of the past, a bit of the present and nothing of the future. The past was safe.

"Where's your head?" Chakotay asked.

"I was just admiring this little ship of yours and wondering how long till you crash it?" she quipped, her gaze was trained to her side and she didn't need to turn to him to know that, that had gotten his attention.

"I didn't crash that many shuttles."

"Chakotay you alone are responsible for the at least a third of my shuttle disasters."

"In my defence –" he began, face stoic. Janeway turned to him, eyebrows arched, this was going to be good, _what possible defence could he have? _she thought. "Extenuating environmental circumstances always befell me when-" Her rich laughter halted him mid-sentence, and she could feel the exasperation radiating off of him, her eyes watered as she attempted to beat back the laughter. He was being serious, appearing incredibly sincere in his explanation as if he was trying to coax out of a reprimand. "I am glad you find my near-death experiences funny Admiral."

"I'm sorry old friend," she said, patting his arm "Please continue." she urged, nodding with the same level of encouragement one would a child trying to explain a story.

She should not overthink this, that's what she told herself, she had spent the better part of seven years analysing every aspect of herself and others, seeing things not for what they are but what they could be. Ten steps ahead, that's what she had to be out there in the Delta quadrant, she could never just sit back and smell the roses, admire the beauty of a moment. Boothby would have had some choice words for her had he been able to counsel her, so she put to bed all the what, why, and how questions she had and resolved herself to enjoy the moment with him.

Since their reacquaintance Janeway had noticed a lightness of spirit, a tranquillity within him, it washed over them both. He had been far more open in the last few days than in the past several years. She thought they were close, knew they were, however clearly even at their most intimate moments he had been holding back. Janeway was touched but couldn't help the errant thought that the barrier between captain and crewman had blocked off more than she had thought, more than she would have liked and had not left him unscathed. Still, with the stress of life and death firmly on the back burner, she supposed this was the real him. This was Chakotay, in love and unencumbered with the weight of a ship and the lives of a crew in the unknown, he was happy, and she liked it. She wondered if he felt the same for her in that regard, if he preferred this Janeway, she might not have mastered it, but she was trying.

Now that Janeway thought about it, he had always been playful. He had, in possession, a devious streak that lent itself well to his humour, it was part of the reason they got along so well. While Captain Janeway was quite the stickler, Kathryn was a little wild and loose. A trait both she and her sister developed from their mother, who had a zest for life that was incomparable. Gretchen Janeway had done everything within her power to ensure that her daughters were instilled with that very same zeal. For Phoebe, it meant that her creative licence exploded, her curiosity boundless. It pushed her to take artistic risks, to be bold where others wanted her to be subdued, where the masses went right, Phoebe would go left. For Janeway, it meant a life outside the realms of Starfleet. She was a social butterfly, Janeway attended all the functions and social events. She had quick wit that bordered on obscene, one that went down well, with right people. With her sarcastic, tongue in cheek nature, one could not help but fall in love with her. Outside of high society she craved adventure and exploration, and sought out pleasure in a world outside of spaceships and stars. Whether that meant dragging her family and friends to the Swiss alps for winter holidays, or cajoling them into jumping off cliff faces to traipsing through forgotten caves off the Islands of Greece. 

She watched as Chakotay shook his head needlessly, dramatically and returned his focus to in front of him, feigning interest "I don't feel like explaining, you've wounded me." An exasperated sigh left his lips, she reached over the console and slapped his arm.

"Such a dramatist it's a wonder you didn't become an actor instead of a Captain" she shifted her position so that she was facing him "But you did make it to Captain and without an apple-related phaser disaster."

"Always said I would captain my own ship."

"That you did, and now have two. Didn't even need to phaser me in a shoddy apple trick gone wrong." She replied wistfully.

"Are you okay with me having her?" he asked, he was now gazing at her intently, knowing that there was little she could hide from him with direct eye contact. He rarely employed this technique, saving it mostly for command quibbles, she assumed it was primarily out of respect. Still, Janeway also had an inkling that it was also out of self-preservation. Observance requires acknowledgement, and it wouldn't have just included him, her admission would bind both parties, and there were many instances across their time together where that would have been catastrophic.

"Yes" she said. Janeway repeated the word, louder and more emphatically, holding his gaze, willing him to know that she indeed was. "There's no one else I would trust with her Chakotay" she grabbed for his hand and gave it a light squeeze "There's no one more deserving of her than you, she is our history." Janeway's breath caught a little, countless emotions clambering to the surface, not used to the freedom they had now been granted "Yours, she belongs to no one else and never will." She gave him a small smile and released him, turning her attention back to the universe outside the ship, a little perplexed and worried as to why she had worded it that way.

"Ours." He said.

She didn't turn to him, not wholly wanting to expose herself just yet, she opted for a silent nod of agreement instead, the ship was theirs, she could accept that. They dissolved into silence once more, both lost to their private thoughts, and after a few hours, she peeked at the coordinates of their destination. There was a pull of familiarity around the numbers, a hum of recognition. Then she realised where they were headed, and her stomach tightened, knotting in anticipation. Chakotay was bringing her along with him to face the demons of his past; she was here in a supportive role; he dropped them out of orbit around location 969 small moon. Janeway regarded the cold, dry orb thoughtfully, its surface studded with craters and strewn with rocks, there was a fine layer of dust that shrouded it, giving it an otherworldly appearance. Janeway felt rather than saw Chakotay take in a deep breath and exhale in a measured fashion and recognised it for what it was, having been guilty herself of it for years. It was calmative breath, one to soothe the soul before facing a storm. He straightened his back and took the _Alpha Flyer _down, she wanted to cut through the tension, make a joke, a comment that Paris himself couldn't have made a smoother landing but it was not her moment. This was for him, and she needed to be a pillar of silent strength. When the ship settled soundly, they basked in the beauty fully aware of the atrocity that had transpired on this beautiful sphere, as they got out, she saw their destination. Barely a five-minute walk to a bronze plaque that stood tall amongst its ashen foundations.

"Was this Starfleet's doing? I wasn't aware they had memorialised Telvik's moon." Her voice was hushed, anything at the higher register seemed ill at a place, there was something about her surroundings that demanding quiet contemplation and reverence.

"They haven't" Chakotay replied, his voice mirroring her own, soft and quiet. "Sveta the rest of the remaining Maquis did this."

There was piercing pain that attacked her chest at that admission, the realisation that Starfleet had yet to acknowledge the atrocity that occurred here, the fact that it had been years and no action had been taken. It had been left to the fallen and broken to immortalise their families and friends. "I'm sure Starfleet would have gotten around to making it official." She said, but the words tasted like ash on her mouth, heavy and thick, coating her tongue, she knew the words for what they were—a placating sentence to wash away the unavoidable truth.

"I'm not. We are in a post-war era. Memorialising a people once considered traitors isn't going to rank high on the list of priorities."

The plaque read:

_On this site, on Stardate 50953.4, one of the most brutal massacres to occur throughout the Dominion war took place. Telvik's moon was once an undercover base for a group known as the Maquis, who took it upon themselves to fight a private war against the Cardassians, whom many regarded as the enemy. This place was considered one of safety with many fleeing here with their families and friends to protect them from the repercussions of war. They were betrayed by one of their leaders, a Bajoran named Arak Kutal, which led to the entire population being wiped out in a surprise Cardassian attack._

_Four thousand two hundred and fifty-six, men, women, and children were slaughtered. No one was spared, the Cardassians took no prisoners. This plaque has been erected to commemorate the dead. May they never be forgotten, may what has transpired here never be overlooked and may the principles for which they stood always be remembered. Our fallen brothers and sisters, we weep though we know the tears will not bring you back, we scream, but we know our anger will not erase our pain, and we remember, for that is how you give us strength._

Janeway's eyes read over the list of names, many of which she had recognised. She knew of the attack, of course, just as she had known of Telvik's moon and it's purpose, what she hadn't known was there sheer number of families that had resided here. Generations snuffed out in a single moment. "Do you know what became of Arak?"

"No, no one does."

"Could he have been a Cardassian agent, like Seska?"

"It's certainly possible, the thought did cross my mind, I'd prefer that to the alternative," he said, and Janeway turned to face him, urging him to continue. "That he betrayed us simply because he could or because there was something to gain. According to Sveta, he disappeared, and he'd better stay hidden" his voice took on a harsh, dark quality "I'd kill him on sight."

She couldn't reprimand him for that, couldn't find the words to negate his vow, how could she say 'he was better than that' when she knew he wasn't, hell she wasn't. She couldn't comfort him, tell him that 'of course he wouldn't have' not when it came down to it because the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice cemented that he would. She knew in the depths of her being he would.

"B'Elanna would be right there with you, I fear." She said. "I hope that it won't ever have to come to that Chakotay. I'd hate to have to visit you in prison or plan your jailbreak." Her attempt at humour went down well, and he smiled, it was a ghost of a thing but enough to lessen the ache in her chest she felt looking at him. She took in the scenery around her, save the plaque it was bare and desolate, no evidence that children once played and people roamed visible, it made her shudder, the idea that existence was fleeting and subject to the palms of others. "I wonder whether we will truly ever move past this." And she gestured to the empty landscape "We have seen so much. Yet we claim advancement, of spirit, morals, technology, and mind" the words were bursting forth unimpeded "We say we value peace and the rights of every living species. Yet nothing has changed, not really, and the progress has been microscopic."

"I know. Peace is fickle and precious, difficult to capture, but easy to imagine. Sometimes the price is too high."

Janeway slipped her arm around his waist, comforting and robust and Chakotay's arm draped across her shoulder, comfort, and strength accepted.

"Had I not been in the Badlands I would have been here, I spent most of my time here." Janeway forced herself not to react to that bit of information. "My name would have been on this plaque too."

"Do you" she paused, trying to find the correct wording "Feel guilty. For surviving," she wanted to look at him but found it too tricky "Would you have rather died alongside them?" she asked softly. His answer didn't come right away, and she could not suppress the grimace nor its shudder this time, worried that he did have some form of survivor's guilt, that he would rather not exist. It was selfish of her to think of herself, especially in a moment that was purely his but the knowledge he would rather be dead pained her.

"No." he replied and took another breath. "I was right where destiny placed me. I shirked nothing. I regret nothing, but I do wish beyond desperation that Starfleet had seen what we had earlier." She wanted to stop him then, tell him that they had. At least factions of them had and that there was crewman, brave crewman who had lost their lives to fight for their cause, that she had been a victim of – "The Cardassians were never to be trusted. Had they just listened" he paused and ran his hand over his face "I cannot help but think this could have been avoided. It was senseless at the end of the day."

They made their way back to the ship in contemplative silence, and once they had entered the ward, Janeway had finally found her voice. "I am glad that our destinies collided Chakotay. It was a privilege to have you by my side for several years, and it will continue to be if we ever find each other beside one another in the future."

He smiled at her, full and beautiful. "You make it sound as if you'll never see me again" he jested, Janeway's mouth thinned, there were no assurances they would see each other again after this, it was all subject to Starfleet and personal lives. A COMM now and again but this casual encounter was probably their last, he had his life, and she had hers, their paths soon diverged. "Well, I can honestly say it was a privilege to serve with you, Captain" nudging her side with his elbow he continued "Apologies, I should be saying Admiral now."

She laughed and playfully punched his arm in protest, laughing as he feigned pain and waved his arms in surrender. "You can call me Kathryn, Chakotay." She said, and she laughed harder, seeing his eyebrows raise.

"Even when we aren't in a command setting?"

"I'm not your Captain anymore." She implored. "It would be ridiculous for you to be yelling out Captain or Admiral over a casual coffee now, wouldn't it?"

"Ah," he joked, shaking his head in jest "But you will always be my Captain."

She turned to him in that moment, serious for the first time in three days, and stared intently into his dark eyes "Chakotay I sincerely hope not." She held his gaze a little longer "I hope that you see me as more than just your Captain and Admiral." she declared. Her impassioned tone had melted the humour from his face "That first and foremost, you consider me your friend; everything I am afterwards is secondary to that." She nodded her head, adamant "We have been through the nine circles of hell and managed to make it out alive, we are equal now." She smiled at him then. "Always."


	12. Proxima

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chakotay has been unsettled since they re-boarded and takes matters into his own hands regarding re-establishing their friendship, he makes a detour for Proxima station and gets more than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a thank you for your patience and an apology for the delay of the last chapter here is another chapter before the Xmas gets a lil crazy.
> 
> I found, personally for me that the novel skimmed over Kathryn and Chakotay's acknowledgement of his relationship with Seven, I hope I have been able to address that here. Also a little emotional drama in this and next two chapters, it will be worth it, what's life without a little drama? In short I hope you read this and internally screamed, perhaps you even threw your phone or slammed your laptop down in frustration towards the end, because you know you love your characters if their idiocy frustrates you. :P

# Proxima

* * *

Chakotay felt unsettled. Ever since they had entered warp, there was a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach, the cause of his ill ease was quietly napping at the back of the shuttle. He found himself at the back foot once more, and there was something in the way she had insisted he value friendship before the command, there was an undertone when she had told him that she would be glad to stand beside him if the need ever arose. Goodbye. That’s what it had felt like; it was as if she was telling him goodbye and that knowledge turned to bile in his stomach, churning it wildly, till he felt the pain ascend and constrict his chest. His fingers worked meticulously over the controls, his body on autopilot as his mind tried to untangle the web with which she had spun, questions, countless questions burst forth. He glanced over their co-ordinates, if they continued with their current trajectory, they would be home in a just over a day or so, the plan was to dock at McKinley Station and go from there. That was the plan, but she’d thrown a spanner in the works with her words and contemplative looks, Chakotay made a split-second decision and entered new destination co-ordinates, they would dock at Proxima Station. It would add two days to their journey, but he needed to quell the unease currently building within him, forty-eight hours was hardly a lot, but perhaps he could get to the root of what was bothering her.

The sound of shuffling from behind broke his reverie, and he adopted an air of nonchalance; he could hear her rooting with the supplies.

“We’re still in the Beta quadrant?” she questioned. Her right hand had settled on his shoulder, and they were practically cheek to cheek as she glanced over the co-ordinates, he could feel the heat radiating off her skin.

“Yes, slight change of plans, how do you feel about the Yaris Nebula?” he replied,_ keep it calm and casual_ he reminded himself. Kathryn deplored being manoeuvred, her nature fluid, mercurial, too much handling, and she would slip from your grasp.

“Can’t say I have any concrete feeling about it.” She replied amused, releasing her hold on his shoulder. From his periphery, he watched her settle into the chair, deeply inhaling the aroma of coffee from her flask “Why the change?”

“We have been dining on rations for five days, and I happen to know that Proxima station has an excellent restaurant, though we could have a day of it. Dinner would be a nice change of pace.” She looked ready to disagree, but he barrelled on “Real food, as opposed to” he reached over and picked up a discarded rations pack “dehydrated cheese and onion scrambled eggs.” He pulled a face as he tossed the pack behind him. “Especially after the adventure we’ve just had, I don’t know about you, but I am emotionally exhausted and sustenance purely made to hit a nutritional quota is not going to cut it.” he looked at her pointedly “Good food, however will.”

“Chakotay travelling to the Yaris Nebula will add two days to our journey,” she said. “Aren’t you sick of me by now?” She asked, clearly joking, yet her question had unknowingly hit a nerve. _Never._ That’s what he wanted to say, but it wasn’t right, because he had gotten sick of her, hadn’t he? Towards the last leg of their journey, he had gotten dissatisfied with their relationship, exasperated by their disagreements, jaded by the waiting and pining. He had severed the strings that bonded him to her, and though he wasn’t naïve enough to assume all the blame, he could admit his hand in their estrangement towards the last year was undoubtedly more substantial. “Chakotay?” she queried. Her tone irritated him, it was affectionate and gentle, he wanted her to scream at him, hate him for just a moment.

“Kathryn, even if I did, I’d come right back.” He replied, averting his eyes as her own widened in surprise. _Spirits what’s wrong with you man_ he thought. He was aiming for a jovial tone but had landed squarely on fervid, and he could feel her eyes on him, sense her stare as she tried to whittle through his defences and crack the meaning behind his words. He needed to bring this back on course and quickly, the shuttle was no place for these kinds of emotions; it was confined and oppressive. He turned to her then and shot her a smile “If I’m honest, I think I’m getting cabin fever, and I’m going to get space happy if we carry on, it’s been a while since I was in a shuttle for this long.” She tilted her head a fraction to the left in assessment, and his heart thumped, praying she did not employ their knowledge of each other to challenge him.

“Alright, dinner at Proxima it is, I took leave until Monday, you are certainly lucky mister.”

* * *

He was pacing like a caged animal.

Captain Logan Grey was a man hunted. It had been a week since the night of the promotional banquet, the night he had stormed off that balcony and left Kathryn alone. _Coward!_ his mind screamed, she had offered a hand in his time of need, a single ray of light in the bleak gloom and he had slapped it away. He was reacting like a wild animal, scared, angry, and distrustful. At the time it seemed to be his only option, if she pushed her away, out of his sphere, perhaps she could be saved, finding out that she too was now on the receiving end of these notes had thrown him off-kilter. He cared for her, more than he would have liked to admit and he was indeed a liar. He looked deep into cerulean irises and told her that ‘he could see himself falling in love with her’ the truth of the matter was, he already had. What was laughable was that he had not realised it until he had lied to her when those words had left his lips he knew, they tasted acrid with deceit and then his over-exaggeration upon learning that she too had been threatened. A groan of indignation echoed throughout the room, he reacted foolishly but how was he to know of the fierce surge of protectiveness that would overcome him, the wrath that infected his bloodstream only to cascade around his being. It was ridiculous, and she didn’t need protecting, she who had faced down the Borg and countless species, having survived and thrived, under such intense pressures. A returning hero such as she, who in less than a decade had racked up an impressive body count and amassed enough experience to rival even the most senior of staff members, she did not need his help, she did not require saving.

He did.

His office was pristine, nothing seemed out of order, but when he had checked his files, he had found that they had vanished. Gone, the dossier, his research all of it destroyed. That wasn’t the problem, and he kept copies, had backed up the files to multiple sources, he was a scientist after all, prudent and paranoid to a fault, you had to be in this line of work. What had the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention was the fact that someone was able to break into his heavily encrypted system and wipe away the data, that there was a being in existence that knew their way around Starfleet security. It was a breach of the highest order, he had level five clearance, which meant that his encryption codes were nigh on short of being impossible to hack, he would have laughed in disbelief had he not spent the last hour scouring his systems. Panic settled itself comfortably into the crevices of his bones, he needed to speak to Montgomery, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he needed to talk to Kathryn. They were all in danger, and both he and Montgomery had played well into ignorance, stating protocol, setting up parameters, insisting that the project would function on a need to know basis. He ruminated on how naïve they had been to think that they could keep something of this magnitude quiet and cursed as he realised how easy it was for arrogance to blind the head on which it sat.

Worse still, there on his desk lay on his table another note, it basked in insolence, mocking him. He didn’t bother checking the video logs, and they would be useless. There was something about this note that unsettled him more so than the others; firstly, it was longer than the single sentences he was used to. Secondly was the tone, there was no mistaking the dark, scornful, and menacing tone. The note emanated, it chilled him to the marrow. He reached for the letter one more time, in a weak attempt to dissuade the feeling of unease, as he unfolded the flimsy piece of paper the bold words came into view;

**NOT SO CLEVER ARE WE GREY?**

**TICK TOCK.**

**TICK TOCK.**

**THERE GOES THE CLOCK.**

**I AM THE ONE PERSON YOU WILL NEVER STOP.**

There was no denying his concern. Grey thought back to his childhood, where he would run away from work on the fishing docks and go off exploring, ending atop the cliffs overlooking the sea, he would bask in the sunlight and scream to the wind. Then the weather would suddenly turn, and a dark foreboding feeling would engulf him. He would watch helplessly as the clouds would darken and grey, the fog would gather and slowly choke the sunlight. His fear heightened as the waters turned ever more violent and the wind would rage, wrathful, and wild as it whipped around his tiny frame. Those same emotions he thought long forgotten, that fear he assumed he had outgrown willed itself to existence as he read that note.

A storm was coming, and it would destroy them all.

* * *

Dinner was reminiscent of the dinners they had on _Voyager _bar the constant threat of disruption ever looming over their heads and true to his word the restaurant was incredible, Chakotay had delighted in the gasp of pleasure that had left Kathryn’s lips as they entered the foyer. Ivy crawled its way up the walls to the ceiling and was abloom with exotic flowers, and the place was in contrast with itself, its wild foliage against its sleek interior. He was pleasantly surprised when he had heard Kathryn’s order, Kathryn’s palate aboard _Voyager_ had been relatively straightforward, she ate without fuss or acknowledgement. All you had to do was place a plate in front of her, and she consumed it thoughtlessly, only when in the refuge of their respective quarters did she ever savour food. Here she asked a myriad of questions, ordered taster platters, asked for chef recommendations for both the food and wine. When the waiter launched into a play by play monologue of the history of the dish and ingredients, she listened rapt, by the end of the evening the waiter was smitten, and dessert was on the house. The waiter refilled their glasses, and he topped Kathryn’s as close to the brim without being indecent as he could, his glass looking anaemic in comparison. She just couldn’t help but charm those around her, and as he observed her take a sip, he let out a laugh.

“What?”

“Nothing’ it’s just good to see that, that Janeway charm hasn’t been diluted over time,” he replied, continuing to smile as he sliced through his dessert. 

The edges of her left lip twitched slightly as she forced back a smile, choosing to ignore him and instead focus on the coffee cake in front of her, his eyes roamed over the restaurant, enjoying the ambience when they finally settled on her his brow furrowed. She was fiddling with the remnants of her cake, peeking at him now and again from beneath her lashes, eyes darting from her plate to him and back again. Chakotay was determined to ignore it, let her open-up in her own time, that was until she began to worry her lip, pulling the soft skin between her teeth, reddening it most enticingly. “Say it” he husked.

If she was startled, she gave no indication; instead, she carefully lay down her fork and pushed the plate to the centre of the table, Kathryn feigned calm wonderfully well and, in that moment, she was a picture of nonchalance. Chakotay was rather amused, realising that with a poker face like that, she could have easily fooled even the Gods themselves, and she would have deceived him too, had her hand not wandered to her comm badge, fiddling with it unnecessarily. “Pardon?”

“Say whatever it is that has you worried to the point that that poor lip of yours is going to end up raw by the end of the evening.” He took a sip of his wine before resting it back on the table “Not to mention the fiddling of the comm badge. I can’t call a red alert in a restaurant Kathryn, so you’re just going to have to divulge your secrets.”

She released her lip and the hand on her badge stilled “I do need to get a hold of my tells, could be catastrophic if I am that easy to read, especially for an Admiral.”

“Well luckily for you I doubt anyone will ever pick up on them, with what we have lived through, I don’t think anyone will know you as well as I do, you’re safe.” He teased, but his words seemed to have missed their mark because that lower lip was back between her teeth and her brow furrowed once more. “Kathryn?”

“Not that I don’t appreciate this” and she waved her hand around both her and food, smiling slightly. “But why did you ask me to accompany you?” she was back to fiddling, this time with the stem of her wine glass. To say that Chakotay was confused was an understatement, not only was her confusion perplexing to him, but her actions were downright bewildering. Kathryn Janeway does not fidget; in all the years he had known her he had never seen her so – his mind racked through a list of descriptors before settling on a human. He had never seen her quite so mortal; he was reminded of an earlier conversation he had shared with B’Elanna, and somewhat unexpectedly he now had the urge to quell her unease but was uncertain on where and how to begin.

“I’m not following,” he replied.

“Just that this trip was incredibly personal to you Chakotay, you lost your people, your family, for a noble cause due to a senseless act.” He nodded in agreement with her, still not following her thought process. “Wouldn’t sharing such an intimate moment have been better suited in the company of Seven, rather than myself?” her tone was careful, soft, almost as if she was afraid to speak the words, her eyes found the window, and she gazed at the passing ships. “There is a limit to the comfort I can offer as a friend, a partner, however… Having someone you’re involved with being there for you would have deepened your relationship. The both of you would have been sharing in something special. Am I making sense?”

She wasn’t. She wasn’t making any sense at all.

“Kathryn why would I bring Seven? She barely knows the basics let alone the intricate details of my Maquis past. Nor is she aware of how important this would be for me.”

“Exactly, this was an opportune moment, a chance for the two of you to cement your relationship.” she countered. The penny finally dropped, and Chakotay didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or cry.

“Kathryn.” it was then he had realised that at some point he had taken occupancy with her hand, his thumb busy with its gentle ministrations. She hadn’t seemed to notice, instead choosing to focus solely on him with a sweet curiosity and God’s help him, he could not find the will to release her. “Seven and I parted several months ago.”

He oversaw her, seeing the realisation dawn upon her face “Oh.” she said softly, and then slowly her face began to contort to one of indignation “Oh!” in her ire she had yanked both hands back and had crossed them across her chest, adopting the demeanour of a captain dressing down an Ensign. “Why was I the last to know? Here I am thinking you’re the world’s most emotionally stunted man, going on jolly jaunts with friends instead of working on your relationship and you’re single.” She pointed an accusing finger at him “I was ready to give you a lecture mister.”

“Isn’t that what’s happening right now?” he replied cheekily, spooning another mouthful of mousse.

“Hilarious” she angrily huffed air through her lips before taking a sip of wine “Unbelievable.” She muttered.

“In my defence Kathryn, I thought you knew. Seven tells me you speak regularly.”

“Yes, we do. But not about the sexual complexities of being human Chakotay.” She replied in exasperation, practically aghast that he would even assume that she and Seven spoke of him “I may be maternal, but I am not **that **maternal.” She took another gulp of wine “Even I have my limits.” Her features softened almost immediately “Do you want to talk about it?”

Chakotay was frozen.

Some seismic shift had occurred since he had been on Trebus because the woman in front of him right now was an open book; every emotion and expression travelled to the surface for review. He nodded cautiously, trust and honesty, that is what had brought them together in the past, and it was what they needed to rediscover in the present. He started in the middle, the beginnings of their relationship, and the catalyst towards its birth was not what she needed to hear, nor was it what he wanted to discuss. Instead, he focused on the arrival of the Admiral, her presence and interference with Seven, in hindsight the woman’s intervention could have been viewed as protective, Kathryn, however, read it as intrusive and was none too pleased. He was frank in his retelling, spared no details as he relived that upon arrival, once again, Seven had shown hesitancy towards their relationship, he spoke of his frustration and touched upon how wounded he was by it all. Ultimately though she had been right, the timeline had changed. He acknowledged that their relationship could have thrived in the confined space of the ship. It was colony after all, ‘a collective’ of sorts, to paraphrase Seven, it was all but guaranteed that all they would have ever known would have been each other. While that may have worked out there, it would not have worked back in the alpha quadrant. They were on opposite sides of the spectrum, in different places in their lives and Chakotay suspected had they had stayed together they would have eventually held one another back.

Kathryn, in turn, revealed that had they stayed on course, three years from then Seven would have died and he, her husband would have been forever changed. He had always been curious as to what had made her change her mind with regards to the Admiral’s plan, what was it that made her break another prime directive, now he had his answer. However, it was a catch twenty-two scenarios, she gave with one hand and took away with another because now he was curious as to how he had been forever changed in that timeline. He questioned her on it, but the Admiral had neglected to divulge the details, either out of its irrelevance or because she still could not assign herself to acknowledge it. “I got the feeling that something happened between you and me” she relented finally “I wish I knew what it was.”

Chakotay was curious too, in what universe could the two of them have drifted apart to such lengths that they could no longer be there for one another. He wished he had known all this sooner and had a distinct feeling that had he asked the Admiral, and she would have told him. “You died.” He watched as sorrow took up residence on her face, but it was her eyes that unnerved him, the pain that swam amongst the deep blue, pained him. They should have stopped discussing it at that point, but the barricades had come down, and there was an unspoken understanding between the two of them that most if not all would be revealed tonight. Kathryn continued with her reflections, stating that she was unsure whether it was Seven’s death, the loss of twenty-two crewman, Tuvok’s illness and then him that broke her, perhaps it was all those things coming together in a culmination of misery, but she was confident of one thing “I was alone out there.”

“She was.” He amended instantly. Kathryn stared at him in confusion “You said 'I was alone out there', she is not you, and you are not her. Nor will you ever be, not now not ever.” He let the words sink in. Why was it that when it came to the woman in front of him, he could not help but make vows? This time he would see them all to the end, she would never be alone, she would never end up like Admiral Janeway, not if he had say in it.

“I am truly sorry though, Chakotay.” Her apology caught him unawares, and he was about to interrupt, but she held up her hand, effectively shutting him up. “It seems I have made quite the habit of interfering with your life, even when it’s not me, it’s another version of me, seemingly having something to say. First with the destruction of the array, then with the Admiral and now this altered timeline” she gave a heavy sigh, weary, as if she alone carried the weight of all the wrongs that had ever befallen him “Though there is a silver lining to this. If Seven ended your relationship because she was uncertain of who she was and what her purpose was to be now that she was back on terra firma. Then perhaps once she discovers it, she would be willing to enter a relationship once more, you did get married, albeit in another timeline. But that doesn’t negate the chances of your being together. You may be able to return to her.” She offered a small smile, he assumed in reassurance, but it fractured him instead.

_Return to her_ he thought, no part of him wanted to return to her, the only woman he wanted to return to was sitting opposite him. She was the one he needed to return to, didn’t she understand that? Seven, he thought, time with her had been brief and enjoyable, and he did not regret it, but it was hardly able to hold up a candle to what existed between the two of them. There was a limit to what Seven did for him, and he suspected the same was true vice versa when the relationship started it was a novel thing, bright and shiny but there was always a part him that felt hollow. He remembered Sekaya mentioning the same thing, recalled her prodding his chest, with Seven he had filled that hollowness as any man would with denial and sex, on Trebus he used work, family, and friends. “Kathryn, Seven.” He paused, could he be honest with her? Would she accept what he had in the way of explanation in all that surrounded both he and Seven? He supposed he wouldn’t know until he took the first step. “What happened between Seven and I was born out of desperation.” He said. _There_ he thought, he had admitted it, not only to her but to himself and it was the first time he had allowed himself to acknowledge that truth.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” She countered. His hand stole across the table, confident in movements as it eclipsed her own, he couldn’t stop touching her. This was what? The third time he had made for her hand this evening, he traced patterns onto her skin, delighting in the feel of it, wondering whether she was unaware or unphased. Either way, no attempt was made to stop him.

“I am. I know why it started and perhaps one day I will explain it” he smiled sadly “It’s not pleasant.”

“Things rarely are with us.” He looked up and caught a look of alarm, as if she hadn’t meant to voice that particular sentiment “I just meant in general, you and I seem to attract our fair share of misery. That’s probably why we became such dear friends, and misery loves company and all that jazz.”

“What of you?” he asked. Deflection was what he needed “There are whispers that you and a Captain Grey have gotten quite close, dating I believe.”

Dejection flickered across her face “Ah, Grey, now that’s another complicated chapter in my life” she brightened instantly “No, we aren’t dating, whoever fed you that piece of information was poorly informed.” Chakotay was intrigued by what he saw of them together he would have assumed it romantic; what else could have possibly led to them being so impassioned that night. "There was a brief moment where I thought perhaps he and I -" the words died in her lips and he caught that same forlorn look she had worn that same evening so many weeks ago. “I was, however, seeing an Admiral Harlow.” Kathryn’s face scrunched up in distaste “Upon Phoebe’s insistence of course, she is determined to see me paired off, I have become quite the pet project.”

“And?” his tone was casual, but unease settled upon him, she may not have liked this Admiral Harlow but there was certainly something their with Grey. 

“And let’s just say there’s a reason the man has been divorced twice, and it would be a cold day in hell before I would ever allow myself to be ex-wife number three, he isn’t a man who does well under captivity.”

“So, there are no new prospects on the horizon?” Chakotay asked.

“Not really,” she acknowledged somewhat wistfully “I have been unable to find someone whom I can say that I truly feel comfortable with.”

“Good.” He replied. Silence descended upon the table; he had not meant to voice that thought, hadn’t expected for it to exist outside of his being. Their eyes were locked onto one another; what stunned him was the lack of astonishment or alarm that should have been visible on her face; he was waiting for her to sidestep his reply. She waited earnestly, hoping that he would continue, but all higher cognitive function had ceased on his part.

“Why good, Chakotay?” she implored.

It would have been easy to laugh off his comment, say it was nothing more than an off-hand remark that held no meaning, he wanted to tell her to_ ‘forget it’,_ but his tongue was refusing to comply, and his mouth remained devoutly still.

A familiar tension hung in the air, it was asphyxiating, thick and heavy, and an indescribable energy that had always existed between them, one that had slackened to a hum suddenly found life. The air was electric, and it short-circuited his functionality, causing his heart rate to accelerate and his breathing to hasten in compensation. He could see that Kathryn was not left unaffected, she wore a lovely expression, soft and lustrous but her eyes, those eyes that usually betrayed nothing drew him in with their frank display. From those tumultuous blue depths, he saw a variety of emotions, curiosity, and defiance to name but a few, she was challenging him, yet he remained quiet. Frustratingly still, as an internal war raged within him.

The waiter had arrived and doping his head low to her ear, he spoke in a hushed and urgent tone, Chakotay felt he was watching the scene unfold through a holovid. He was there but not entirely, the waiter left, the moment was gone, and Kathryn was by her chair in seconds. “It appears there is an emergency, excuse me.” She had said quietly. He wondered whether that had been disappointment he had heard in her tone, he could not be sure. Her movements, her words, her everything, things seemed to penetrate through him at a snail’s pace, when he had finally regained his motor control, she was gone.

He was alone.


	13. Paris has fallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paris has fallen and Janeway is called away, Grey realises that there is more going on here than just a rebellion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so terribly sorry for the delay; January is exam season and well… not to bore you but I have been knee deep in X-rays /MRI’S/CT’s. To make up for the month of silence I gift thee three chapters. The third chapter will be up this weekend it just needs editing  
Have a wonderful week and I will see you soon and pray I do well on this exam :P

# Paris has fallen

* * *

Paris was on fire.

The alarm sounds barrelled through, calling all to attention, melded with screams and shouts. Pure chaos, civilians were running out, while service members ran into burning buildings. The room was hushed in horrified silence, as smoke plumed upwards, cascading over buildings, smothering them out of sight. It was an uncomfortable scene, challenging to make sense of anything aside from the obvious, fire. The holovid was ablaze with colour against a pitch background, explosions of red and oranges flaring to and fro. They were usually glorious colours, vibrant and raw, powerful, and alive. Beautiful. Yet there was nothing attractive about them now, and they held the only destruction, it was almost as if you could feel the heat through the screen. Without so much as a warning the recording stopped, the reprieve allowed captain Grey to shift in his chair and take a brief look around the room into which they had settled in. It was not meant for its current purpose, it was far too large, and the small oval table looked ridiculous situated in the centre of the room, like a single grain of rice in a bowl. 

Admiral Montgomery had launched into another impassioned speech, the words retaliation, strength, and force were thrown about, there was more, but the words were faded, distant, Grey could not bring himself to focus. Instead, he wanted to slip into a dreamless sleep, and it felt as if his limbs were made of lead and his head, he could feel every bone, ligament, and joint. There was no doubt in his mind that he was ill, yet he could not afford to be so. For days he had been feeling off and given his piss poor diet, broken sleep patterns, and the inhumane work hours, it was hardly surprising. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen his apartment; it could have been a week, it could have been five, it all weaved into a single time stream. He had been burning the candle at both ends and, in the middle and his immune system had packed up and left in response. It was essential stress response, and his body could adapt no longer to the demands he was giving it, hypospray wouldn’t fix this. Respite from Starfleet would, but that was a pipedream, he needed to bring his attention back to Montgomery, but his throat felt dry, painfully so.

As he reached for his glass, he noted its weight, empty. As was the jug beside it, he wondered how and when he had managed to polish off over two litres of liquid in, under an hour, his ruminations didn’t last long, as the padds were quickly passed around. The report went over the events, Paris had suffered a terrorist attack caused seemingly, by the holoprograms. It was only the second in the wave of holographic revolts, not including the demonstrations and it had been more than a year since the last large scale attack. When nothing more had become of the incident, the fat cats in Grey had gotten complacent. Out of sight and out of mind. Despite Grey’s insistence that they give the matter more investigation, the level of expertise needed to recode multiple programs was not easy nor an ordinary skill, this was cybernetic terrorism. Their response had been slap-dash at best, there were more important things, or rather there was nothing to exploit. Instead, attention turned to quadrants, exploration, dilithium mining, treaty signing, separatists hunting. Bureaucratic nonsense, the war had tarnished their reputation because it had been avoidable, and they were in dire need of a gracious filter. They didn’t care about holoprograms, why pay attention to something little more than a photographic recording of a light field?

They had been dismissive, and it had been the wrong stance to take, yet again. Now they were scrambling for a culprit, acting akin to children pointing the finger and screaming ‘_it wasn’t me; it was you’_ to one another. They were looking for a scapegoat, and they were looking fast. Knowing how things worked in the world of pips and bars, Grey knew they had already found their sacrificial offering.

The report irked him, and he couldn’t stave off the feeling that something was not quite right, the headquarters for the President of the United Federation of Planets was one of the first buildings attacked but sustained minimal damage. “Fortunately, the explosion had been limited to lower grounds of the building.” Admiral Montgomery said. “Had it been higher, it would have toppled the entire building, and this would have been a very different debriefing.”

“We’d have a dead President on our hands for one.” Admiral Paris said pointedly. There was certainly no love lost between the two of them. Grey suspected that Paris was of the same sentiment as he, it was a fool’s notion to ascribe this down to luck. There was no such thing as luck. Grey was a man of numbers, statistics, and logic_. “It could have been planned that way?”_ is what he wanted to say. There was no point though, how many times in the last year had he raised similar queries only to be beaten down by the rank bar? Far too many, a petty man would have whooped aloud and danced on the table. It was tempting, the urge to jump atop the table and exclaim in indignation, revel in the chaos only to end chanting ‘I told you so’ continuously. He was, unfortunately, not petty, he wasn’t much of anything anymore. He couldn’t find the will to fight anymore, no longer had the vigour for debate, one could have ascribed it down to his being sick. The keys word there was ‘could’, one could have said that, but it would have been a weak excuse, the truth was that he was done. He was a singular Captain amongst a sea of Admirals. He could count his allies on his left hand; Paris was one of them; the older man was certain to back him up. He was an astute tactician, never one to settle for half-assed measures, he had been one of the few senior members that had rallied behind during the first rebellion.

They all droned on, with their plans and strategies, buzzwords are thrown about here. Only Paris and himself remained silent, their focus on the report in front of them, peeling back the layers of this catastrophe to make sense of it. Their colleagues, however, their focus was elsewhere. There was a single sentence of acknowledgement from Montgomery with regards to Starfleet Medical Academy, _pathetic _he thought.

“Starfleet Medical took quite the battering” Paris offered, eyes darting briefly from his padd to Montgomery. “Is there any significance to that?”

“As far as we know, Owen, no. The building isn’t as heavily secured as the campus or the presidential builds, and it seems it was more of an opportunistic attack than a planned one. Even though it received the most damaged, it had half the number of devices in comparison to other buildings.” Half the number it may be but Grey reread the paragraph, Starfleet Medical had sustained significant damage, _Irreparable _the file had stated. Though many of the Admirals around the room were relieved, what was research to diplomacy, the PresidentPresident was alive, and that was all that mattered if they had only known what was at Starfleet Medical, what they had lost, he was sure they wouldn’t have been as relieved.

Now he felt sick.

He could feel the nausea grip him deep in the belly, like hands to the throat trying to snuff out a life, he needed to breathe, get air into his lungs, fresh air but as he did his throat burned in protest. Sensitive and enflamed, as if those fires from the holovid had made it to his throat. Out of his periphery, a hand slid a glass in front of him, and it took everything Grey had to raise his head and meet his saviour. Paris nodded in understanding and gave a grim smile then the meeting was over, and Montgomery dismissed the room, Admirals shuffled, cheerless out the room.

With the room empty the temperature settled back down, and Grey could feel his body sigh at the reprieve, he needed sleep, he needed food, he nee-

“I’m going to need your people on this Logan” Montgomery barked. “The detonation device, the explosives used, I want your top people on it” Grey couldn’t help but think how similar to a rhinoceros Montgomery was, big, hulking, with a dangerous, powerful swagger. He exuded power, power that he hurtled unrelentingly into everything and everyone, bulldozing his way to his goal, consequences be damned. Morality be damned.

“Starfleet Medical received a majority of the damage.” His voice, when it came, was despondent.

“Thankfully so.”

“Thankfully!” he slammed his hand onto the desk, anger coming off him waves. “Is it not a tad suspicious that it was mainly Starfleet buildings targeted? Does it not seem odd that Starfleet medical took a brunt of the damage?” he was up now, chin jutted and eyes staring down into Montgomery’s, he may not have had his build but his sheer height and the glint of those bright eyes against dark features was imposing enough. “If I were a terrorist organisation, I would have targeted the PresidentPresident solely, or at least ensured that that’s where most of the damage would have been centred around. There is something off about this.”

“You’re paranoid.”

“And you’re not paranoid enough” he spat “Starfleet Med had the vi- “

“Know your place, Captain!” Montgomery’s voice boomed loudly, echoing throughout the room, the security team outside the glass doors visibly startled and backed away. “Conjecture Grey, you are giving me conjecture. The holoprograms are going around spouting nonsense about revolution and independence; sympathisers have managed to override programs and change their system settings. This is nothing more than photon hugging hippies with a death wish. They targeted Paris as a statement, damn it all, the PresidentPresident resides there. They needed a platform, and now they have one” Montgomery paced around the table, hands-on-hips, back poker straight and as he turned there was a fury Grey had never seen before. “That godforsaken EMH of voyager has been rallying around advocating for hologram rights for the last year; incidentally, the first attack was around the same time he was relaunching his novel.”

“You can’t possibly be suggesting that – “

“I will suggest as I please, I outrank you. Ever since that damned ship burst through, into my quadrant, we have had nothing but trouble.” his face was red with rage. There it was, ‘_My quadrant’ _it had always been a curious thing, to see the man in front of him, usually stoic and composed come undone by the mention of either Janeway’s or her ship’s name. “I digress, there’s no conspiracy here. What happened at Starfleet Medical was unfortunate but what was lost there is insignificant because a majority of what was there is here. It’s here in your lab and at Starfleet Med SF.” the fire behind his eyes settled. Grey watched in abject misery as a mask of indifference came over the Admirals face “You have your orders, now get out, I need you in Paris” he clapped the man on the back in solidarity. Still, to Grey, it felt like a push towards the grave “And Logan, for goodness sake man, settle down. You look like death.”

* * *

They had always had terrible timing, it was the one certainty Janeway had about them.

Mere seconds, as soon as the question had left her mouth, the waiter was at her side, torso bent, mouth to ear, and words hushed. Her gaze had been focussed on the man in front of her, and she needed clarity because right now, she was wading through the fog and treacherous waters. Then the word urgent, comm, and Starfleet were uttered, it was automatic, the shift of her gaze from his intense dark eyes to the eyes of her impromptu messenger. She was an automaton and Starfleet her program, the realisation was subtle, distant but there and it pulled at her chest, Janeway genuinely thought she had improved over the last year. Finding the balance between personal and professional, but some habits were harder to break. Muttering a brief excuse, she pushed her body upright, instinctively following him across the floor, her mind awhirl. It was a fair distance to the comm unit, and he interlude allowed her to fall into her thoughts, toy with the notion that it was better this way, Janeway hadn’t liked the expression on his face when she had asked him to clarify what he had meant. There was a finality in it. A brief sense of bravado had possessed her, willing her to challenge him on his commentary; it was naïve and laughably foolish. After all these years she still possessed hope, it was exhausting, frustrating, and dare she think it, pathetic. When he was out of sight, he was out of mind, and she could function within the normal parameters of her being. His presence threw her off-kilter, it had done so from the moment they had met, they pushed each other to the extremes, for better or for worse. He was noxious in the best possible way.

“Na’ shaya halitra-ian” Decan greeted. Janeway smiled, a pleasant bright grin, and gave a subtle nod to her lieutenant, his intention noted. Janeway knew that communication at Starfleet was monitored; her father had told her as much as a child. Usually, senior staff were exempt from such ‘Big brother’ tactics but after her disastrous debriefing, Montgomery and the Borg project she had developed a sense of hypervigilance. She had instructed Decan to greet her in English strictly and in Vulcan if things were urgent, from there the two of them had drawn up a list of buzzwords with double meanings, ensuring safe communication at times.

_Na’ shaya halitra-lan _simply translated to ‘Greetings Admiral’ and would have flagged up zero red flags if their line was tapped, however, that greeting, for the two of them, meant he had sensitive information.

“Admiral, apologies for contacting you during your shore leave but there is a situation here on Earth.”

“Continue Decan.”

“There have been terrorist attacks in Paris, most of the damage focussed around Starfleet buildings, though we are now receiving reports of smaller acts of vandalism in communal areas. Admiral Paris has found a passage for you on _The Gamma Eridani,_ which is currently docked at Proxima station, her Captain Alara Vega is already expecting you. I have sent the necessary information to your PADD.”

“Understood, I will leave now and read up on _The Gamma_ is there anything else lieutenant?”

“Decan’s paused briefly before continuing “Unrelated to the matter at hand but with regards to your schedule for next week. Do you still require me to make reservations for the opera?” he asked. Another buzzword, this time about the Doctor, she schooled her features into a relaxed smile. 

“No, thank you, lieutenant, I think given the circumstances we will leave it for now.”

The line went dead.

The Doctor was in trouble, Paris had fallen to a terror attack, Starfleet needed her back home. The words repeated themselves like a mantra in her head, one foot in front of the other, mechanical and determined. If you had stopped her then and there, asked her where she was and how she had gotten there Janeway wouldn’t have been able to answer. “Where are you running away to?” the question pulled her out of her daze. She found herself speechless, in the _Delta Flyer_ with a duffle in one hand and her padd in the other. The words settled into her consciousness, it was an odd question, phrased strangely and asked in a quick, quiet, and worried tone. She had an inherent urge to act defensive, and she wasn’t running anywhere, Janeway’s never ran from anything, they faced everything thrown at them head-on.

She was not running, and she was not.

Chakotay stood by the exit hatch, arms at his side, expression unreadable. _Oh, Chakotay _she thought. Realisation settling in, she had left him, in the restaurant, alone. Maybe this was for the best, they could never be together, could never make it work, for two people responsible for so many lives, love was a fool’s errand. She was an idiot to think otherwise. “I got a comm, there has been a terror attack in Paris I have been assigned to _The Gamma Eridani_, she’s docked here” She spoke quickly and succinctly, her eyes never entirely staying long enough in one place, guilt-wracked her, he deserved better. With that thought, she looked up at him. She expected anger, and there was understanding, she expected frustration but was met with only concern and confusion. As confident as she could, she stepped towards him and hugged him, trying to convey as much emotion as she could with the simple action. Hugging was common for Kathryn, rare in the Captain and non-existent for the command team, she long harboured an unspoken fear that touch between them would cause only to shatter the fragile foundations she’d built. “I was glad,” she said and stopped, forcing a smile onto her lips “I am glad that I could be there for you these past few days.” She pulled away, hands resting on his shoulders “And all things aside, I had a wonderful time.” She could feel her fingers twitch, wanting to settle them on either side of his jaw, perhaps in another timeline she had; instead, her right hand slid across towards his chest.

There was a steady rise and fall of his chest, and it was a gesture initially meant to placate and pacify the receiver, born out of friendship, over the years its significance and meaning had morphed. At least she knew for her it had, what was once meant to calm him now soothed her, rooted her to reality, and gave her strength. Reluctantly she pulled her hands away from him “Well, I should head off.” Grabbing her bag, she made a quick escape, Janeway had always hated goodbyes, and this felt oddly final, there were pinpricks of remorse over the fact that she hadn’t let him get a word in edgeways. Though had she, her resolve would have crumbled. He would have seen through her bravado and coaxed the truth out of her before the day was done. What she was required to do and what she wanted to do were two separate entities, as an Admiral she needed to find _the Gamma Eridani_, she needed to return home, needed to help her friend and assist back at command.

Whatever it was that Kathryn needed, could wait.

* * *

Exhausted was not the term that came to mind as Admiral Janeway finally transported to San Francisco, the hotel room was a wasted expense, she had hardly spent any time in it. For the last four days, Janeway had been in Paris with Admiral Owen, meeting after meeting, debriefing after the debriefing. She stepped off the transport pad and waved off the engineer as he attempted to call a shuttle for her, his warnings of storm falling on deaf ears, rain, thunder, and lightning didn’t scare her, not anymore. 

There had been outrage across the planet; people were angry, panicked, and scared, which made for a volatile and hostile environment. When she had finally docked and been transported safely to Paris, Decan was at the station to meet her, and there he updated her on the events of the last seventy-two hours, including the whispers he had heard that the Doctor was to be implicated as a transgressor. She wished that she could say that she was surprised but given how hard they had to fight for the doctor rights when he wanted to retract his novel for revision it was to be expected. It had also been one of her constant worries back in the alpha quadrant, her load may have been less, but the gravity of what was placed on her shoulder certainly hadn’t diminished. Janeway was more than aware of the Doctor’s advocacy campaign for hologram-rights in the last year, and she had been present when he went in front of the commission to request a change in status. Both she and Lieutenant Kim had stood in front of the board, pompous decrepit uniformed men as they were, advocating for his rights. She could still recall their look of incredulity as she insisted that he had grown beyond his original programming, he was sentient, capable of thought and emotions nor would she ever forget how earnestly Lieutenant Kim had spoken. “_The emergency command Holoprogram subroutines represented a human desire to change which is irrefutable evidence that the Doctor has adapted and isn’t that the definition of life? Is it not true of what is witnessed in nature? Adaption.” _There was no denying the fact that she was fond of Kim, she felt the same maternal protectiveness for him that she thought for B’Elanna, Tom, and Seven, though she would be hard-pressed to admit it. She shouldn’t have had favourites amongst her crew, yet she did and that day, seeing him stand on the podium with the confidence of a captain, a swell of pride attacked her. The case had gathered a lot of attention as did his book, _Photons be free. _It had generated quite the buzz upon first publication, once Voyager had returned sales had rocketed and interest revitalised, with it, came criticism and acclaim. Which was now seeping into Starfleet, to think that those stuffed brass shirts would assume that the Doctor would incite such hatred, nurture discord and foster chaos rattled her to the core.

There was nothing she could do for the Doctor, not so soon after the attack, and she was an admiral now. Whether she liked it or not she was front and centre, and Janeway knew that the higher-ups were watching her, biding their time, waiting to see if she would jump to the defence of her old crew, curious to see if she would jump ship and break protocol. Little did they know that she was stubborn as they were blood-hungry but the passivity that she had to undertake in the last several days had finally caught up with her.

This was why she had decided against calling transport to headquarters, the last thing she wanted was to be surrounded by hordes of people and opted for the nearest station and decided to walk. It was a miserable day, and it reflected on her well. Janeway was not a superstitious person, and she did not believe in something that she could not feel nor see, always being a woman of science. Still, there was a sense of foreboding that followed her as she walked down the well-worn streets of San Francisco, she surmised it was the ambience, there was not a soul in sight. The air tasted electric, and there was sure to be rain, and the distant boom of thunder echoed around, better-minded civilians had retreated to their homes, for what madman would chance being caught in a storm? Then it hit her, the waves of nostalgia laced with gloom, unable to understand why she was so affected by the weather until another roar of thunder tore through the city. The last time she had been caught in a storm, she had lost a tennis match; had let her teammates down and lost them the game. Inept, that was how she had felt, and she was feeling it again after this week, except this time, there was no daddy to pick her up off the ground and carry her home.

She was alone.

The rain had started to beat down from the sky, a freezing rain that penetrated deep into her uniform, Janeway shivered but remained steadfast in her pace, neither speeding up or slowing down. Home was now around the corner, and she would be greeted by warmth, Roan, and warm brownies, knowing her mother had stolen away to the apartment the previous night to feed the dog and tidy up. She stopped outside the apartment complex, raised her head, and took in the rain, allowing the fat droplets to hit her face, as if she could wash away her failures, wishing it were that easy. Ghost images filled her head, in her imagination she was free of her pain, omissions, and sin, Voyager had never gotten lost, Mark was a childhood friend, Justin was her husband, and her father was still alive. He stood at his aquarium feeding lionfish, goading her with another equation, there was laughter in the distance and the sound of children “_Mum!” _Another crash of thunder, this time with a flash of lightning, powerful enough to break her out of her reverie, she pushed open the door and wandered mechanically to her floor. The human brain, for all its wonder, could be cruel and calloused, soaked to the bone and fighting the melancholy that gripped her by the throat, she was ready to weep. She would have broken down right there and then in the corridor had the familiar form of her former first officer not come into view, impeding all cognitive function, he stood, still and solemn by her door. She never broke her stride, and when his eyes finally settled on her and the sides of his mouth pulled into a smile.

“Finally.” He said.


	14. Outbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grey takes drastic measures that leads to disastrous results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that two chapters were released simultaneously today so remember to check out 'Paris has fallen' first. Perhaps reacquaint yourself with chapter 12's Proxima, if you've forgotten what happened last. Through no fault of your own, as I will say that, that one is on me for the delay. Xx
> 
> Also you've been horrifically patient so thank you.

# Outbreak

* * *

_She had lost consciousness again and now lay crumpled on the floor; she didn’t remember much before she blacked out. She was uncomfortable, the floor punishing on her bruised body, moving her head up she caught sight of a single beam of light. A wayward ray refusing to be repressed in the pitch room, it illuminated a small spot on the hardwood floor. She watched rapt, as minuscule shimmering particles flocked towards it, pleating and folding in the light, as if happy to see the sunbeam. Translucent sheets of paper were strewn across the room, and all were blank, she feels as if there’s some sort of significance to this, she moves her arms forwards, feeling something rough under her right hand. Her energy is non-existent; the simple act of raising her arms has winded her. Still, she relaxes her grip, unfolds her fingers to reveal a crumpled slip of paper with a single sentence written on it. **Remember who you are**. Remember who she is? Who is she? She has a name.** Yes,** she thinks, she does, it’s on the tip of her tongue, her head collapses back down in frustration. She lies there for a few moments, breathing deeply, gathering strength, from her periphery she sees another piece of paper, right in front of her by the sunray, there’s writing on it too. Her hand reaches out, stretching forwards, using the floor as traction to propel her forwards, as she nears the light, she catches sight of her hand, raw and bloodied thing that it is. As confused as she is by her bruised and bloodied state, she doesn’t stop and continues crawling towards the light spot on the floor._

_This light, with its brightness and warmth, is enticing; she’s gotten used to the dark, used to the shadows, tears prickled at the corner of her eyes, she just wants to go home. She wants her mother; she wants her cat._

_ **Please let me out, and I just want to go home. I want to go home.**_

_She’s a hairsbreadth away and joy bubbles in her chest but just as her fingertips scrape the sunlit floor an intense burning sensation attacks her head, the pain fanning across her forehead. It’s excruciating, and she touches the source of the hurt, feeling the sleekness of metal cool to touch, on the side of her head. _

_She remembers now, this metal implant._

_She remembers what happens when it activates, overwash in panic she tries to remove it. Still, it remains steadfast in its attachment, bound to her skin like a parasite, cyphering her will, her freedom and imparting an unfathomable amount of pressure to her skull. _

** Please, not again, **she pleads.

_ “No more.” the words leave her mouth in a pitiful whimper, the last thing she can say as her mouth clamps shut and her pupils roll back, displaying the whites of her eyes. An agonised howl echoes across the room, wrenched from her lips as her head bounces off the floor with a sickening crunch and fingers dig into the floor. Fingertips, claw at splintered hardwood, tearing into flesh and ripping off nails, leaving streaks of blood behind, her jaw is tensed tight, stopping short of shattering her teeth. She can smell blood, has the taste of metal and salt on her lips, she knows what’s coming next, **let me die**, she thinks._

_She would lose consciousness soon. _

_As the darkness creeps across her field of vision, the last thing she sees is the ray of light being snuffed out._

Eyes burst open to darkness—pain_,_ the word echoes around.

This sensation, it is known as pain. Pain is horrible, it thinks, and it lets out a wail in desperation, seeking release, mercy. Muscles are twitching, contracting, and relaxing in quick succession, causing its limbs to attack the floor violently. The sound of thumping fills its ears, and the veins in the neck begin to distend, these large ugly, spider leg projections that pulse with every beat. It needs to breathe, but it’s difficult, air won’t leave the lungs, another cry of frustration pierces through the room as the air sits there, waiting, suffocating it—bloodied saliva pools onto the floor. _Kill me, _it thinks distantly, but the words have no meaning. The contractions begin to lessen, and the gap between tensing and relaxation lengthens, the threat of choking diminishes with every painful gasp of air. The reprieve from torture is glorious but short-lived as the vicious clenching of their abdomen forces them onto their hands and knees, retching onto to the ground, it spills over their hands, sinks into their hair, skin, and clothes. It feels moisture weep from its eyes, streaking down cheeks, as the last remnants of the foul burning liquid dribbles from its mouth.

It tastes vile.

So, it begins to spit on the floor, to rid itself of the acrid taste.

_I want to go home_ the voice echoes around it, startling it out of its position. It falls on its haunches in fear, and scuttles to a position on all fours, raising its head it sniffs the air. There is nothing else in the darkness. It is alone. Yet the words continue, a voice repeating the same thing, _I want to go home_, quieter and quieter, till it is barely a whisper and then silence. With the voice gone, the pressure in its head begins to subside, and the pain dissipates, now there’s nothing but a soft humming vibration on the side of its head. Hands go up to touch it, feeling something cold and hard. Before it even has a chance to rip the thing from its head, there’s a rush of information, words, pictures, and sounds, all coalescing into one in its mind.

Knowledge, so much knowledge.

It stands up, knowing it should be on two legs and not on all fours like an animal. It is not an animal, and it is evolved. It attempts to unearth what occurred when it was incapacitated when the other took over and scours through its memories, but the information is damaged, tainted. There is disassociation, and though successfully suppressed it can still feel the other, even if it is barely a whisper of a life force, it is present and staunch in its refusal to adapt to service.

_You are obstinate,_ it thinks. The mind that coexists in this body is foolishly wilful, persistent in its will to exist, but resistance is futile, and it will comply, all living things do. Looking down it spots a stray piece of paper, and in a single fluid motion, it has lowered itself to the floor, perfectly balanced in a squatted position, its bloodied hand picks up the note and reads the words written on it.

**Find Kathryn Janeway.**

* * *

Speechless, relieved, confused.

The adjectives were endless, though she could not say that she was surprised was one of them. He had an uncanny ability to show up at her most vulnerable moments. For once the fates were on her side, he had yet to notice her, she made quick work of her despair, forcing it back to the depths of her being. She took a moment to look at him, really look at him, it had been years since she had allowed herself such luxury. She had never been allowed anything more than a passing glance. For as soon as her gaze had settled onto him, it was stolen and her attention redirected, by either a hail of a ship, a comm call, or a systems failure.

He was a mammoth of a man, in size and height, dwarfing her significantly. The epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, something that seemed to increase as the years went on. Though she supposed that, that was the very nature of attraction, ever-shifting with time. It was subjective, of course. The initial wave of desire was always purely superficial; the maintenance of appeal, however, was symbiotic. It had nothing to do with near perfection but rather a connection, one that was strengthened over time. An affection that grew, made more potent by the ongoing spectacle life seemed to offer, of shared experiences and empathy. Janeway paused; she had gone off track and into hostile territory. She cursed herself internally for her lack of control and attempted to reign in her wayward thoughts. Barely a minute ago she had been ready to crumble to the ground in the gloom, now she was spewing nonsense about symbiosis, affection, and attraction.

A groan of indignation left her lips, loud enough to alert the man barely three strides away of her presence.

They stood as they had always done, toe to toe, sizing one another up, assessing for damage, whether it be physical or emotional. With her head cocked to the side, she raised a questioning brow, her hands having already migrated towards her hips, a command position locked and loaded. His hand had drifted towards the lobe of his ear, having pulled at it briefly he settled it behind his neck. Her eyes narrowed in recognition of his nervous tick, just as he knew all of her tells, she knew his. He continued to stare at her, ruffling his hair in apprehension, before finally settling his features into a dimpled grin, she was nothing if not suspicious.

“Finally.” he breathed, relieved. 

“Chakotay. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“We didn’t finish dinner?”

Her mouth twitched at the rather matter of fact manner in which he had replied, “Are you sure? Because by my recollection we had been on the dessert wine. That is usually a signifier for the end of dinner.”

“Kathryn, that’s the end of the meal.” He stepped closer “The end of dinner would have been when the plates had been cleared off the table, the bill paid –”

“Ah,” she said in triumph “But I did pay.”

“Yes, right before dashing out.” with a playful grin and his arms now folded, he leaned against the door frame and gave her a slow, languid appraisal “We didn’t say goodbye or wish one another good luck or a safe journey” he paused for effect and sighed dramatically “Quite rude of you.”

“You came all the way here to give me a lecture on the finer point of dining etiquette?” she replied, humour evident despite the incredulous look she was shooting him.

He nodded demurely before he reached behind and presented two suspiciously overfilled bags.

“I am at this moment revoking our earlier dinner and noting it down as a rain cheque.” He motioned to the door with both arms jovially. “Well Kathryn, are you going to let me in? Or are you going to leave me here standing like a pack mule with these bags? “he questioned. She smirked at his antics, stifling a laugh ad he made a show of looking around him “Or are we going to eat out here? I mean I am all for alfresco, but these floors don’t seem very comfortable.” To prove his point, he began to stomp his foot on the epoxy coated floor. “Not comfortable.” 

“Someone’s in a good mood today.” she punched in her crucial code and waved him in “Is there anything I should be aware of that brought about this jovial Chakotay?”

“I’m always jovial.” He replied deadpan.

She left him to worry about setting up the table as she rounded to the kitchen, her jacket discarded as soon as she had entered thrown across the sofa in flippant disdain. Plates in hand and glasses in the other she returned to the coffee table, she was expecting to see the meal prepped and ready with her friend awaiting her return, she was greeted with his sombre face.

“Chakotay. What is it?” she queried.

He wordlessly handed her a piece of paper, and her heart thundered to attention as she unfolded the piece of paper.

**SAVE GREY.**

She needed to go.

“I am sorry Chakotay, but I may need a second rain cheque, I have to go, I’ll comm you and we can –“his tight grip on her arms halted her hurried speech. His eyes had lost their mirth and narrowed to slits as he scrutinised her.

“How long?”

“Pardon?”

“How long have you been getting these notes? You didn’t seem at the least bit surprised.” He said.

“Several months.” She told him. The words were drawn out in resignation, knowing that she would see one of two things, disappointment or anger, she hoped for the latter, his temper with her was always short-lived and barely simmering. Frustration, however, was a sentiment that was not easily rinsed away. She could have lied but the thought to lie never crossed her mind, what good would it have done? He would have sussed the fib immediately.

“Advantage of not being on _Voyager _anymore means that I am no longer under your command. So, Kathryn.” Said Chakotay and Janeway winced a little in response. It seemed command had kept quite a lot at bay with regards to the man in front of her and she did not know how to respond, knowing that she safety of the old ways no longer existed. There was no protocol and rank in place to protect her from having this conversation, this was uncharted territory, and though not frightening, it was certainly unsettling. “Kathryn” he implored again. He had never said her name like that before, never used that equable cold tone with her, it was usually she who was clipped and unflappable. “Well, are you going to explain? Because I am not leaving here until you do.” She felt his hands tense on her arms briefly before releasing her. He took in a steadying breath and regarded her with cold detachment, as his arms crossed over his chest, a defensive stance, and she could either stand down and concede or fight.

Eyes fluttered to a close in contemplation, and when she had opened them once more, the steel behind her resolve was evident, her decision had been made.

* * *

It was a quiet day in the cybernetics department. The storm from the morning had settled down, and the sun shone brightly, illuminating the office. Captain Grey stood by the window and watched the tiny figures below, and it was a beautiful day, one in which he felt he wouldn’t mind dying on. A violent cough racked his body and gave rise to a fit that had him doubled over, arm over mouth as he wheezed for breath. Pulling his arm away from his mouth, he saw the collection of sputum bubbled with blood, reaching for his handkerchief, he casually wiped it clean and returned the kerchief to his pocket. He knew he must have looked a state. He had always been a pale lad, even as a boy but this complexion he had taken on in the last few days was deathly, his skin a translucent grey, clammy to the touch. He had taken to wearing high necked shirts to mask his neck, as his veins had taken to spidering across his body like cobwebs. He was glad that there were only a few officers in the department present today; it would make clearing them from the room easier than he had anticipated. Crossing the floor to his deck, he checked his comm read over the message one last time, not that that would have changed what was written on there.

**You have two options, Grey.**

  1. **Blow up your department.**

**or**

  1. **I blow up the whole of Starfleet HQ**

It seemed that the unknown assailant had graduated from paper to electronics and had decided to forgo the dramatics this time around. A timestamp set to the left of the message ticked away the seconds, and he realised, rather dejectedly that the last note he had received had given clues as to how this would end. He had been playing a rigged game. Grey fingered the screen, and in contemplation aware that should have been afraid, death was something that men fear beaten only by the advancement of age. Death no longer scared him, that gift had been stolen the moment he had read over the report that sat on his desk, it was tragic when he thought about it. There he was, in-between a rock and a hard place armed only with a gun, and it was aimed at his throat, no matter what he did or which way he turned death was inevitable and with that inevitability as his back he may as well make it worth something. After all, the sacrifice of one life was more significant than the sacrifice of many.

“Computer open up a channel to the department” he called. The computer registered the command and chimed in recognition “This is your captain speaking, I need all personnel to clear this floor immediately.” He watched from his glass cage as officer beneath him paused and looked up to him in confusion “That is an order, clear this floor in 5 minutes. I am running a simulation and require the department empty; you’ll be able to return in an hour or so.” He watched as the carefully packed away their research, grabbed comms and made for the door, and he spotted Ensign Maine wavering outside his office. He opened the channel once more “What part of that sentence don’t you understand, Ensign? Out with you, go on, this is a private simulation you don’t have clearance. I’ll be fine.” He ordered. He smiled at the man, in hopes that it would assuage any fears the young officer had. It was a feeble attempt; he knew it and could see that Maine did not buy it but thanks to rank the young Ensign could do little about it but acknowledge the order.

When the floor had cleared, Grey made his way to the window and picked up the padd that held his blood results. His immune system was depleted, and he was severely anaemic, but it was the results of his blood film that had pained him.

Full Blood Count

| 

WCC (Corrected)

| 

1.94x10⁹/1  
  
---|---|---  
  
| 

NRBC

| 

41/100 WBC  
  
| 

Hb

| 

4.2g/dl  
  
| 

Platelets

| 

112x10⁹/l  
  
| 

MCV

| 

83.3fl  
  
| 

Reticulocyte count

| 

30%  
  
| 

RPI

| 

8  
  
| 

MCH

| 

22.3pg  
  
| 

MCHC

| 

26.8g/dl  
  
Peripheral blood smear

| 

Target cells diffuse basophilia, infiltration of RBC reported

Code; 99xB0R-G

|   
  
When he had read through the report three days ago, he hadn’t even bothered looking over the results of his blood biochemistry tests, and it would have served only to solidify what he already knew. Deadman walking. He thought that it had been a simple cold, the symptoms had been nondescript and mundane that code on the report read that he was infected, and they were no closer to a cure now than they had been eight months ago. With no clue of pathogenic spread, they had no way to protect themselves, and they had no assurances on whether it was air, water, or bloodborne. He looked at his hands, scrutinised nails that now had the telltale white bands across them, his liver was shutting down.

They knew the diagnosis, but no aetiology had figured out the pathophysiology but pulled blanks on treatment. While they knew of symptomatology, it was limited to the latent stages of the infection, when there was nothing more they could do but wait. Which was why he had not bothered with a workup at the beginning. They had had no frame of reference for the early phases, now that he was aware of what afflicted him, he was able to work backwards. It had taken less than a day for him to catalogue his early symptoms and update the medical reports.

He was now patient LG99x.

He knew how this ended, and with that, the decision he had been given from the unknown hacker had been simple.

“Computer activate self-destruct Grey alpha, code zero zero zero Destruct zero six-eight.”

“Activating self-destruct Grey alpha, code zero zero zero Destruct zero six-eight.”

“Override lock access to the office.”

“Access override activated.”

Grey sat back in his chair, closed his eyes, allowing his body to shut down and his mind to settle. He conjured up his favourite place as a boy, and for a moment, Grey felt as if he were back on the cliffs of Clo Mor. He could see the sweeping panoramic views of the tumultuous Scottish seas and traced the path he took to the beach below. By those frigid waters, you could spot puffins, kittiwakes, and fulmars as they shuffled and ambled across the sand and rock, he could taste the salt in the air. He continued with his reverie imagining that he was on that beach making his way to Smoo cave, down to the waterfall hidden in its depths.

“Grey!”

The sound of the water beating against the rocks.

“Logan!”

The whistle in the air as it reverberated in the cave’s caverns.

“For god’s sake, Logan! Please let me in!”

The desperate plea was enough to awaken him. Eyes opening blearily to the see a fist beating against a glass door. He recognised that shock of hair immediately “Kathryn.” He whispered. His body was tired, his bones ached, and then realisation dawned, he had activated the self-destruct code, and there she stood trying to break her way in. “Get out.” He croaked, voice weak, he needed to get her out, he needed her safe. He heard a sigh a frustration and the fracturing of glass. “Get out Kathryn.”

“Not without you.” She demanded. He felt her hands settle on his face “You’re burning up. Grey, what’s going on?”

“No.” he pulled away from her and steadied himself on the desk “Self-destruct had been activated. You need to leave” he ordered angrily. When she refused to move for a second time, he slammed his fist onto the table, cracking the glass beneath. “Computer site to site transport, lock onto Admiral-“

He found himself on the ground, winded with a hand across his mouth, effectively shutting him up. She had tackled him, and he looked up at her aghast, she had torpedoed herself right into his body and taken him down mid request and now sat atop him with a look of unfiltered rage. Her free hand bunched into a fist, and she slammed it down hard and fast to the side of his face. “Get up.” She demanded. “I am not leaving here without you.”

“Kathryn, you don’t understand. This is the only way, I have already been inf-“another fit of cough attacked him, when he brought his face up to hers he saw surprise and unease. He raised his hand to his mouth and wiped away the blood. “You see, it would be better to leave me. I have sent you the access code to my files, and it will all be there.” He paused, touching her cheek tenderly “Please go.” He begged. Looking up at the chronometer, he realised that they had mere minutes left. It looked as if she would acquiesce to his request and he breathed a sigh of relief, at least she would be safe, but then he felt her pull his body up, forcing him to rest his weight onto her as she shuffled across the room.

“No” she ground out. The look of determination on her face was admirable, but his stomach sank, they would die, he would be the cause of her death, her stubbornness would be her death. Still, he walked with her and realised that she wasn’t making her way to the door but rather to the turbolift, the computer began the countdown and the seconds ticked off.

_11, 10, 9, 8,_

They were halfway now.

_7,6,5,4,_

The turbo doors were in reach.

_3,2,1_

* * *

Sweat congealed with dust and debris had clumped itself across his skin; he had forgone the jacket and was now down to his tank. His body was adorned with grazes and scratches, all superficial wounds, and though he could taste blood on lips, he knew that a busted lip was nothing in comparison to what could have been. Captain Chakotay had been in and out of Starfleet HQ several times, either carrying the wounded in his arms, helping bring in the medikits or assisting carrying out the stretchers.

When the first blast had hit, he hadn’t time to hit the floor, and it had been mere seconds when the second explosion occurred, he had been thrown against a pillar and had managed to avoid hitting his head narrowly. The building shook, walls crumbled, and the ceiling came down. Chakotay had taken in the scene in front of him from his position and attempted to get back up, but the explosion had caused an insufferable ringing to attack his ears. The attempt to stand led to a sudden bout of vertigo, and he found himself on his hand and knees, it took a few moments before he was able to heave himself off the ground. Once again, he lost balance and his vision blurred. His first intuition was to get down, shut his eyes and recoup, and then his training kicked in, he scanned the foyer, took quick note of the damage and attempted a third time to get up.

It seemed that they had gotten the aftershocks of the main explosion. However, they had needed to evacuate; the threat of a third explosion was a real possibility. He began barking orders at anyone non-disabled, designating them to the wounded as he stepped over the dust and debris looking for those too injured to get themselves to safety. That had been an hour ago, and a majority of the wounded were safely out of the building, on his last exit Chakotay had been cornered by a beady-eyed medic who would not take no for an answer. Blatantly ignoring his assurances that he was alright, the insistent thing finally relented, agreeing to leave the Captain be if he agreed to a quick once over with the tricorder. Chakotay decided, and after a quick scan, he was handed a bottle of water, a space blanket, and told to stay put until further notice, with the will to argue depleted he settled on the ground. He watched with anticipation as the security team called for an affirmative for floor clearance, a disembodied voice yelled out verification from inside of the building, and the team garbed in black and blue marched into the building.

He was exhausted.

There had been no word as to where or how the explosion had occurred if there was any news the men in brass were keeping it firmly wrapped tight. With the threat of imminent danger underfoot worry settled in, he had yet to run into Kathryn, he understood with the chaos around him that she was bound to be somewhere, he just needed to know that she was safe.

See her face.

He wasn’t satisfied for how long he had sat there, but at some point, one of the security members had rushed over to the medic station, over-animated and harried in his speech. Chakotay had managed to overhear that they had found two casualties in the turbolift, the words weak, life signs and severe were muttered before four medics made for the building with stretchers and kit.

When they exited again Chakotay saw Admiral Paris rush over, take quick stock of the first stretcher before rushing over to the second, there was agony etched on his face, not something that would be assigned for any officer. It was a look he knew well, one reserved for a loved one, and he watched the old admiral reach for the stretcher only to be promptly stopped by the medic, a look of irritation flickered briefly across his face before he backed away. The beds got closer, and Chakotay caught sight of the first occupant, recognising the dark hair and the sharp features from a banquet that now seemed a lifetime ago. The Captain was surrounded by staff, and as his body drew close Chakotay understood why, the man was nothing but singed uniform, burns, and open wounds. The left side of his face had been scorched away, exposing the red tissue beneath while the lower part of his face had been hidden away, behind a bag valve mask. While one paramedic furiously pumped air into his lungs and other whittled off words like fluid loss, electrolytes, and hemodynamic shock, there was a call for emergency transport from one of the security co-ordinators. Then he was gone, leaving the second casualty. Admiral Paris walked alongside the stretcher, face stoic, Chakotay managed to catch his eye, only to be greeted by a comfortless gaze, one which the Admiral dropped quickly, refocusing his attention to the patient beside him. Chakotay’s heart rate increased, Kathryn had left him in the reception area, made him promise to stay put while she checked on Grey, insisted that she would be a minute, swore that she would be fine.

The second stretcher came into view.

Chakotay felt his body go numb.

_Kathryn._


	15. Nothing but us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phoebe is smarting and itching for a fight but will she get it.

# Nothing but us

* * *

_The ground collapsed beneath her, and she was engulfed by darkness and water, bubbles of air escaping from her mouth and nose, a precious life source she was willingly relinquishing. The pain was barely registering, and her eyes closed in acceptance, this is where she belonged with them, here._

_Let me die._

_Let me die._

_I want to die._

* * *

Janeway awoke to the sound of birds chirping and a stream of sunlight on her bed. Another memory, they had not subsided at all. They started around the same time she agreed to go to therapy, Janeway hadn’t thought much of it at the time, attributing the dreams to her finally facing her demons, memories were bound to drip into her subconscious if prodded enough. However, it had been more than a year, and often she was finding herself waking to whispers of her past, sometimes the memories were inane. It would be her and Phoebe in a field making daisy chains; sometimes they were like the dreams she had this morning, dark fragments she thought she had smashed into unrecognisable shards long ago.

It had been surprisingly easy to get her to agree to talk to someone, something her mother was pleased yet shocked by, Janeway thought back to that day.

_It had been a week after they had arrived back on Earth, Janeway was sitting on the porch watching the clouds lazily across the sky and the sun inch higher and higher. Neither her sister nor her mother brought up Voyager, they let her lead and direct all conversations, and Janeway was getting the distinct feeling they were inching towards something. It was as if they were preparing themselves for an all-out assault. _

_Her mother joined her on the porch but not with coffee and brownies as was the norm, instead she had a pot of tea that she placed carefully on the table, alongside a tray of ‘bread with the goods’ as her father had once called it. Good old Irish comfort food, freshly baked soda bread that still warm from the oven, laden with churned butter and tart marmalade. As much as she hated the labour-intensive work that went into the dish, she could not deny the taste was worth it. Her mother only ever brought out this particular spread when broaching the tough subjects with either daughter. Janeway could recall every one of them, the evolution of her problems from child to adult, once upon a time, the most stressful thing that plagued Kathryn was a disagreement with a friend. ‘Mum! Anne was mean to me today at school.” And then she would cry and bolster on this same patio bench, from there it was lost tennis matches and breakups, hardly earth-shattering stuff but all of it culminating into adulthood. Where it was a series of unfortunate events, failed missions, deaths, and engagements. She wondered what the topic for was today, she had been quiet all that week, reflective and maybe a tad solemn but nothing to be concerned about. _

_Her mother offered her a cup of tea and sat down, and there they stayed for a few minutes, in a comfortable silence. _

_“The night of the homecoming banquet when I had you in my arms, you broke down crying. Something tells me that that was a long time coming.” _

_“It was.”_

_“Darling, do you remember my interrupting you that night? Probably not.” She placed a slice of bread in front of her and spooned far too much marmalade on top, as if this would sweeten the conversation, “You said something that I haven’t been able to let go off.” She took Kathryn’s hand and squeezed it. ‘I miss my name. I don’t know who I-‘then I stopped you. I am sorry for that, but I do not think my heart could have taken it, you were in such pain, and I just wanted to hold you, just for a moment. Kathryn, I don’t know what went on out there, and I know it’s classified, but given what happened the last time I think you should see someone.”_

_“I am not the same, and this isn’t the same as last time.”_

_“I know dear. That is exactly why I want you to go. You learned to cope with everything out there without Phoebe, myself, or Mark. You were amongst strangers.”_

_Kathryn looked up sharply, ready to argue but her mother held up her hand, stopping her mid-way “Oh I know, they became family at some point. But after how many years. And there was always going to be a line between that separated you from them. If you are as much of your father’s daughter as I think you are, then you were as stringent in your rule-keeping as he was. Can you look me in the eye and honestly tell me that you used healthy coping mechanisms?”_

_“I did the best with what I had.”_

_“I know” her mother turned to her, took her face in both her hands, blue eyes pleaded with blue eyes “Now do better with more.” _

_Do better with more_ Janeway thought. Easier said than done, and habits were hard to break, she turned to the window and let out a harsh gasp, during the accident she had landed awkwardly on her back and torn the muscles of her latissimus dorsi. Her muscle fibres were still under reparation, and the doctor hand wanted to heal her in stages, starting with the worst of her injuries, mainly the burns she had sustained to 60% of her body. She had asked her to come in after a week for further treatment, and Kathryn found herself complying without much fuss, part of the reason was that even she could not fight the seriousness of her injuries. It was an impressively worrying catalogue off battle scars that she had managed to collect. The main reason, however being Chakotay, or rather the fight she had with Chakotay some moments before the doctor re-entering. She hated the word fight, it sounded shameful and vicious, but that is what it had been, it may not have been a physical battle, but the emotional fallout was there. His words still rang fresh in her head, at the time she had been in no mood for his anger, his concerns, or his presence, she had kicked him out of her room all of ten minutes after waking. Kathryn cringed at the memory, they had hardly been quiet, and she was confident half the ward had heard them take swipes at one another. As much as she wished they had not left on what was a bitter, acrid note. What could she do? She could apologise, should apologise even, it had been over a week, and she was no longer smarting over the fight.

If Kathryn was truthful, she was more anxious than anything, being at odds with him was deeply unsettling, and their disagreement had been replaying the moment he stormed out. Oh, they had been at loggerheads before, how could they not? With the amount of time they spent together, their varying beliefs, ethics, and opinions, it was bound to occur. Except they had always managed to resettle the waters by the end of the day, two if things were terrible. Kathryn thought back to every disagreement both significant and small, recalled every incident, and there was one recurring factor in it all, Chakotay was always the one to make the first move. Every single time. Even when she had been the one in the wrong, the knowledge humbled and infuriated her, she continued to lay there, combing through memories. There had to be one example, had to be one time where she had taken the initiative, but the more conflicts she recalled, the more evidence she gathered against herself. How in the world had that man stomached her stubbornness for several years? It indeed was astounding. As eye-opening as this epiphany was, it left a bitter taste in her mouth. She thought him a friend but how often did she show him she thought of him as much, granted out there it was difficult but back on earth.

An exasperated sigh echoed across the room; self-awareness was overrated. It was then that she caught sight of the beautiful cloudless sky from the window, teasing of a warm and bright day and in her chagrin, she rose from the bed and pulled firmly on the curtain, snuffing out the sun. A quick retreat and she was back in bed staring at the ceiling but now she had too many thoughts, left alone in the darkness and alone with nothing but her mind to keep her company, it worked away. She was about to turn over, bury herself in the warmth of her duvet, coat herself in her well-deserved self-pity and resentment but then she paused. How many times has she been down this rabbit hole? How many times must Alice fall before she realised wonderland was not the place for her?

Enough.

She was no longer slogging it in uncharted territory, nor she was she a petulant child given to fanciful bouts of melancholy, had she not come this far? Not taken active steps this past year to distance herself from the self-destructive behaviour she had fallen into the habit of employing.

_‘Take every day as it comes’_ that was mantra her psychiatrist had urged upon her and if she happened to stumble then so be it, tomorrow was a new day, another chance. Yes, she had erred yet again, landed herself in danger without the briefest of thought for her well-being, worried those around her, yet back. She could acknowledge that, apologise, move on, and try again or she could stay right where she was and cause even more harm, she looked towards the space beside her and listened to birdsong. No one could rescue her now, nor should they be expected to. She must do this herself.

Once more she got up, and with a steadying breath, she pulled back the curtain and opened the window wide, letting the breeze gently kiss her face.

“I will be fine.” She whispered gently.

* * *

Phoebe was a woman on a mission.

Kathryn had been discharged from the hospital a week ago and was on sick leave. A week ago. This was information that Phoebe could live without because Phoebe had only found out this morning, she had been smarting from morning till noon and holed herself up in her studio to decompress.

First, there was the explosion, it broadcasted worldwide, interrupted every program, global television at its best, and it was through this news update that she found out that her sister was one of the casualties. Not her mother, not Starfleet, a godforsaken news report, it was about as impersonal as one could get. The transporters were down to civilians to limit access, and it would be a full two days before both she and her mother would be allowed to visit Kathryn not that she could call that slapdash meet and greet a visitor. They had been shipped into Admiral Montgomery’s office, with all the finesse of a Bolian ballet dancer after the better part of a half-hour wait at HQ. During that wonderfully insightful debrief told of her condition is nothing more than medical jargon. Then they were carted around to Starfleet medical as Admiral Montgomery, whom Phoebe had now deemed to be a pompous windbag, reluctantly hailed Kathryn’ as a hero’ for her bravery for saving captain Grey. Well, Phoebe assumed he was reluctant, it was either that or that scowl he wore of disdain was a permanent fixture, neither of those two options was of any reassurance.

What comfort was she to take from all of that? Was she supposed to take any at all? It was an unadulterated farce. She loathed Starfleet, more so in that moment than she had in the past few years. She despised it in its entirety and try as she might she could never understand the appeal it had for her father and her sister. Their mother was incredibly understanding of it all, though Phoebe supposed she had to be, wasn’t that the very essence of a mother? To make sense of the fuckery your children got into, the nonsense they found themselves in, the tangled mess of life they weaved for themselves and despite it, all, love them anyway.

_Starfleet,_ she thought bitterly. ‘_Hello Mrs Janeway, your sister almost died. Again! But I mean, who hasn’t am I right? She saved some captain. Hooray. She is a credit to the uniform. Aren’t you proud? Now toodle pop you civilians, we are busy and important. The fate of the universe balances in our very hands. Get home safely.’ “_Absolute fucking arseholes the lot of them” she muttered under her breath. She pulled her jacket closer; Kathryn was probably holed up inside the apartment, shrouded in darkness, wallowing in her bedroom. She could not understand her mother’s calm and accepting mood this morning, how nonplussed she seemed; it was as if she did not know Kathryn at all. As if she had conveniently forgotten all the times Kathryn would teeter to the edge after a failure, she was probably blaming herself yet again, for putting herself in harm’s way and making them worry. Which would be acceptable to anyone, except her sister had a knack for taking something and going to the farthest reaches with it, she lived in the extremes, and it was equally helpful as it was detrimental.

She got to Kathryn’s apartment door, and every frustration she had was taken on that poor unassuming door. Nothing. Not that she was surprised, she was more than ready for this mid-afternoon assault, and she already had her sister’s key code. She was just about to punch in the numbers when the door slid open, and Kathryn stood dressed, showered, and clear eyed on the other side.

“My poor door has done nothing to you, leave it be.” She stepped aside and waved her in “Well, come in.”

Phoebe opened her mouth, not quite sure what it was she wanted to say. She was unprepared for this, of all the scenarios she had run, this had not been one of them. She had been stockpiling adrenaline for a week, prepping for a fight, fully expecting to phaser her way into the apartment, wrestle Kathryn out of bed, lock her in the bathroom, and force-feed her lunch. She took quick stock of the apartment. Bright and airy, windows open, light streaming through, the sink held dishes, and there was the faintest scent of oranges, Phoebe caught their source, a fresh bouquet propped on the kitchen counter. Kathryn herself had returned to the sofa where Roan had nestled, quite comfortably into a crook between Kathryn and the couch. There was a book on the coffee table along with a pot of tea and biscuits, and if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she would have called it hogwash.

“Well,” Phoebe muttered.

“Phoebe.” Kathryn countered.

“This is not what I was expecting.”

“What?”

“I came here to yell at you.” She announced, shuffling past her sister, and plopping herself on the opposing sofa.

She watched as her sister brow shot up in humour “That’s not surprising.”

“I had a speech planned.” It sounded petulant, but it was true, she had composed a rather good speech designed to kick Kathryn’s arse into next week.

“I am sure you will get to use it at some point.” Kathryn remarked offhandedly “After all, it is me that we are talking about and I do have a skill for irritating you.”

“I damn well hope so, it was a good speech.” Phoebe’s head was now resting on the arms of the sofa and her feet dangling of then end, this was new, and all she could do was roll with the tide, with slight trepidation she asked the question that was the crux of the matter “You okay?”

“Surprisingly so,” Kathryn responded, and Phoebe had to admit she did appear well. The skin on the side of her face still held a glistening sheen, almost as if it were being stretched and it was a little red, nothing noticeable and certainly nothing that would not fade by the end of the week. Phoebe watched Kathryn intently, head cocked to the side, lip thinned, and eyes narrowed. When Kathryn bent over to retrieve her mug, she faltered midway, letting out a little grunt and a wince in discomfort. Kathryn paused for a moment, held her ribs, and took long slow, steadying breaths. Phoebe walked over, picked up the mug, handed it to her, and returned to her seat, expecting a glib off-handed comment. The very least she was expecting a wave of dismissal at her current status. “Well, aside from the slight discomfort when I bend and the infernal itching.” Kathryn made a sweeping motion across her body, from top to toe. “No matter how many times I undergo cellular regeneration, I don’t think I will ever get used to the damn itching”

Phoebe grimaced, she had undergone cellular regeneration before, the irritation that came with new skin growth was incredible. To the point where Phoebe recalled having once re-injuring newly formed skin due to incessant scarcthing.

“It’s as if fire ants are biting me.” Kathryn relented. 

“I must say you do look good for someone who was almost blown to bits.”

“Such tact. How much do you know?”

“Enough to know that you almost died” She shot her a look of disdain “again. But I can’t even be mad at you.”

“You can you know.” Kathryn shook her head “I was reckless.”

“Yes” She added carefully “You were.” Phoebe could not argue with this, for all intent and purposes she had been incredibly reckless and though she was not privy to the details that she had gathered from the newscasts both were lucky to be alive. “They say that had you not gotten there when you did and gotten to the turbo life Captain Grey would be dead. How is he?”

“Medical induced coma and that’s all they will tell me. It’s all rather lock and key.”

“Even for you?” she queried.

“Especially for me,” Kathryn replied dryly.

“I want to yell at you.”

“Be my guest. You’ll be the second person to do so.”

“But how can I put you through the wringer now when you’re in front of me now being all mature and functional,” she asked. Phoebe was now horizontal, head settled on the armrest, and tilted toward Kathryn. “Mum tried to stop me, you know, hollering before I cut the comm on her” she winced “I am going to get a bollocking for that one.” Phoebe settled herself further into the sofa, further into comfort, dragging her eyes away from her sister she settled them to the ceiling and shut them tightly. “Can you just stop trying to die and leave me, please. Once is all I can handle.” Kathryn got up and nudged her sisters head off the arm and sunk down into the seat next to her, Phoebe eyed her suspiciously as Kathryn gently manoeuvred her head onto her lap and stroked her hair. This was something Kathryn used to do all the time when they were younger, before the teenage hormones had settled. When frustration kicked in, when everything felt as if it was just too much to handle Phoebe would get so angry that all she could do was cry. Kathryn would then haphazardly pick her up, quite a feat given her age, and let Phoebe rest her head on her lap. Sometimes she would even sing the old folk songs their mum had taught them, other times she would read out loud, but mostly, she would silently comfort her, just as she was doing now.

The gentle motion on her head lulled her into a sense of calm and tranquillity, this was difficult, she still was not used to this.

When Kathryn returned that was it, her sister was back, she assumed they would fall into their old habits, and for the most part, they did. The banter, the comradery, it was all there, there were many moments over the last year where Phoebe had forgotten that Kathryn had been missing for the past several years. She slotted seamlessly back into their lives. Then there were days similar to today, days that threw all that she knew back in her face. She kept using the Kathryn she knew from their past to navigate their exchanges, but that 28-year-old woman did not exist anymore. Frustration built itself up in her chest, it was directed at _Voyager_ for getting lost, at Starfleet, at the damned mission to the Badlands but mostly it was at herself. She was furious with herself for not recognising the woman Kathryn had become out there, and for not getting to know her. For constructing a copy of Kathryn from memories and echoes because it was easier that way, more comfortable. Phoebe chewed her lip in thought, now anxious, what did her big sister think of her? Did she begrudge her for falling into old habits, for continually making assumptions of the woman she was now? The only opinion that mattered was hers, you rebel against your parents but you seek affirmation from your siblings. She wanted to sit herself up, pull her sister into a hug and tell her she loved her, all versions of her, always. That she knew they did not always see eye to eye, but when push came to shove there was no one in this universe she would rather have at her back than her. The things Phoebe wanted to say, so many things, she could feel them pushing up against her lungs, that had never been her though. She was not soft and pliant, she was not made of sugar and rainbows, how could she have been? Artists develop thick skin and admirals’ daughters even thicker skin. She chanced a glance up and caught her sister smiling at her; it was a full face sort of a smile. Visible from the upturn of her lip, the crease of her nose, all the way up to her eyes, which were awash with warmth and understanding. 

“I know, and I love you too.” Her sister crooned, still gliding her fingers through her hair.

“I didn’t say anything.” She replied grumpily. The laugh Phoebe heard followed by the kiss she felt on her cheek and then her forehead brought the blood rushing to her cheeks and caused her to hide her reddening face beneath her arm. She felt five years old all over again, embarrassed and ecstatic to be with her sister.

“I love you all the same,” Kathryn muttered.

“Who was the first?” She asked. Deflection was her greatest friend. “The first person to yell at you, it certainly wasn’t mum. She’s far too understanding of you and your fleeter mentality.”

“Chakotay.”

Phoebe thought it curious. The moment the name slipped past her lips, Kathryn’s entire countenance shifted, the smile was wiped clean off her face, and the humour behind her eyes dimmed significantly. The name sounded familiar ‘Chakotay’ it was an odd name to be sure, but there was a taste of familiarity to it. What sort of person was this ‘Chakotay’? The word brave indeed came to mind, to have taken on a Janeway was one thing but to raise your voice at Kathryn? Foolish, that was one trait that would never disappear, her scrapper spirit, Phoebe used to joke that the reason Kathryn had such a fighter attitude was due to her absurdly small stature. Napoleon complex, or was it little dog syndrome? She was about to make the same comment when she noticed the far off look in her sister’s eyes.

“Who is this Chakotay character? It sounds like I might like him.”

“Former first officer,” Janeway replied. Slowly the pieces came together, and she vaguely remembered a man by Kathryn’s side at all official functions, the towering thing that he was. All dark hair, dark eyes, and tanned skin, she had fully expected a more dismal countenance to finish the suit but was pleasantly surprised. As she could seldom recall ever spying him without a smile, and secondary to their mother, it was quite possibly the warmest smile she had ever seen. He had reminded her of one of her favourite childhood characters from an old children’s story, she wracked her brain, searching for the title of the book.

“The BFG!” she exclaimed, slapping her thigh in triumph.

“I beg your pardon.”

“Chakotay, I remember him slightly. He reminded me of the ‘_Big Friendly Giant!’ “_she settled herself back into Kathryn’s lap “God that was going to drive me crazy, glad I remembered.”

Janeway barked out a laugh, mutterings of how she ‘_definitely needed to remember that one’_ and that ‘_Tom was going to love this’_. Phoebe was glad for the lightened mood, but now she was curious, a fleeter would be significantly more understanding and comprehending of Kathryn’s mentality, they would be the last person to kick up a fuss over what Kathryn had done. This she knew as fact, as there had been many Starfleet related showdowns in their family. It was always her and her mother on one side and Kathryn and their father on the other, sometimes the tables shifted when Justin was introduced to the ranks it was 3 for 2. When Justin and their Dad had died their mother defected to the pro-fleeter side while Mark, as supportive as he was of Kathryn was very much anti-fleeter, it made for useful mediation in all things. Curious, Kathryn’s former first officer and if memory serves well, now the captain was not a flag-waving drone. Her interest was truly piqued, especially now that she knew that his opinions seemed to have some form of resonance with her sister.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“I suppose I should.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am terribly sorry for the radio silence but with everything going on, all hands have been called to deck both at uni and in the hospitals and I haven't been able to write as much or edit. That aside, I have a few days off and I will attempt to edit through the next two chapters.
> 
> That aside I thought a little Phoebe and Kathryn bonding was due.


	16. Words to die by

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kathryn makes a startling revelation and comes to terms with her near death experience and Chakotay relives his past regrets, namely how he had treated Kathryn at Starfleet med.

# Words to die by

* * *

**She had woken up on the 7th day, at 5.45 am.**

Admiral Kathryn Janeway sat in her office reading over her medical report, for what seemed to be the millionth time that week. Having also gone over the video logs, she could admit that there had been a fine line between life and death for them both. They had only just managed to reach the turbo-lift and have the doors shut before the footage went blank. She had almost died. The sentiment had never really bothered her before, and death hardly scared her, Kathryn wondered when it had happened. When had she lost the fail-safe mechanism every living creature possesed? The little voice that said duck, run, hide, stay alive, she did not have it anymore, where had it gone?

_Ice shrouded wilderness in front of a steaming vat of black water, her body sinking into the ice, the hideous truth like a spectre looming over her, Justin was dead, her father was dead, both entombed in ice and water. _

That was the moment. When she had willingly let her body slip further and further, into those deep icy waters. When she had, with calm intention, exhaled all the air in her lungs and discovered that dying wasn’t frightening; and that living was. It was infinitely more difficult to carry on living, especially if there was nothing to live for. Kathryn settled the padd down and hid her face behind her hands, scrubbing at it, as if she could cleanse away the truth.

**She had almost died.**

“I almost died” she whispered.

The words washed over and settled, tears welled in her eyes, and her breath became laboured, she took in huge gasping breaths, but it did little to ease the pain. She clutched at her chest, right where her heart was wishing she could reach deep inside and rip it out, a painful wail, a howling terrifying thing erupted from her lips and echoed about the room. Kathryn sank to the floor, tears flowing non-stop, shoulders bobbing up and down. Fifteen years ago, she had nothing; everything she had cared for had been wrenched away from her, like a babe from it mother, she was left alone, too young to survive and too stubborn to die. That had changed, or rather her perception had changed, being stranded out there on _Voyager _had forced her to face some truths, she was stubborn and selfish at times. Only ever seeing her pain and her anguish whilst the world burned around her—only ever seeing her route when there, right in front of her, lay a thousand and one different paths.

She had never been alone, not ever, she had only ever thought it, blinded by her grief and smothered by guilt. Her mother, Phoebe Owen, Mark, they had always been there for her, her family. A family was infinitely larger now, made up of every crewman she had served with for several years. Her family was now Tuvok, Harry, Tom, B’Elanna, Seven, and Chakotay. Her chest ached as she thought of him; she had never cared about the repercussions of her death never believed there would be any, not till him. Kathryn thought back to the conversation she had had with her sister a few evenings prior.

_Phoebe sat cross-legged on the floor and had poured two glasses of red wine, she fiddled with the stem of her glass and appraised Kathryn slowly. Kathryn, having just finished regaling the disagreement she and Chakotay had had some weeks prior, lay on the floor in silent contemplation. _

_“Do you remember what aunt Martha used to say about men?” _

_“Aunt Martha had a lot to say when it came to men Phoebe” She quipped back. They turned to face one another and laughed, their aunt Martha was the type of woman who had an opinion on everything, even the things she knew nothing about._

_“That she did” Phoebe paused and flipped herself over so that she was lying on her stomach, wine glass still in hand and not a drop out of place, to say Kathryn was impressed was an understatement. “I’m talking about one phrase in particular. She said, ‘All men are like drinks’”_

_“So?”_

_“So” Phoebe repeated, exasperated. “So, let’s compare the men in your life to drinks.” She paused and rolled her eyes at her sister when she saw the look of incredulity “I’m not talking about the stolen kisses in a closet at a party in 4th grade Kathryn.”_

_Kathryn moved her head so that she could see Phoebe clearly and shot her sister a suspicious glance “That’s an oddly specific example you gave there Phoebe.”_

_“Hey, I am a younger sibling, I’m a brat, and your room was fair game. Diaries may have been read, and clothes may have been stolen, that is beside the point here. Just the men who have had a significance in your life.” Phoebe took a swig of wine “Let’s start with Cheb.”_

_Kathryn thought of Cheb, Cheb with his dark hair and that one funny lock that always fell over his forehead, his eyes which were that deep shade of blue that her teenage self so easily lost herself in. He was broad-shouldered, strong-armed, and intelligent, the best-looking thing in their year and she remembered being utterly perplexed when he had asked her out in senior year. She was not the most beautiful; frankly, at the time she thought she looked a lot like a tomboy with her angular features and whippet-thin body. She was not the most brilliant; talented or athletic, all that had come later, once she was at Starfleet. When her breasts had finally come in, her body had filled out, and she had grown into her jaw and cheekbones. _

_Cheb whom she used to sneak out with and kiss under starlight._ “_Champagne,” Kathryn said. Yes, Cheb was champagne, fizzy, sweet. It went straight to the head, as all first loves do but left you hungover the next day, those bubbles that had placated you the night before tortured you the day after._

_“Justin.”_

_Kathryn turned away from Phoebe then and looked towards her ring finger. Justin, what had Justin been? He had been lean and muscular, older than she was and there was an appeal in that. Justin had been in his early 30s. He had a solemn brow, dark tousled hair, and eyes- these deep, blue eyes- defiant. There was a power to him, a darkness, she used to tell him that he reminded her of a panther, a sinewy predator, so sleek and self-assured. Justin was the opposite of her in every sense of the word, he came from a difficult background and had a challenging past, and it was all imprinted on his face. _

_“Stout.” Justin was Guinness, Guinness has a smoky taste to it, you could taste the roasted malts and bitter coffee on the tip of your tongue. At first, it’s a little jarring, but then the creaminess of the drink settles, and the aftertaste is dry, toasty, and only slightly bitter. Justin was like that, difficult to get to know and even more so to get close to, sharp in tongue but under the surface, he was not as bitter as he liked to make out._

_“Kashyk?” Phoebe called immediately. Kathryn spotted from her periphery Phoebe pull a wide Cheshire like grin. “Not that I need to ask.”_

_“Scotch,” Kathryn replied promptly. The less said about Kashyk, the better “Next?”_

_“Mark.”_

_Mark was easy. “Bourbon.” She replied confidently. Bourbon was sweet; it coated your mouth with aromatics like vanilla, butterscotch, caramel, and honey. They were flavours associated with childhood but to be enjoyed in an adult way, she had always associated it with a sense of home, of familiarity. “Is that it?” Kathryn asked, heaving herself into an upright position._

_“Almost, one more. Chakotay.”_

_Kathryn echoed his name in confusion. “Phoebe, Chakotay and I were never romantically involved.” She stated primly, and if she had been honest a little too forcefully._

_“I know but come on, assign him a drink all the same. He may not have been a bygone lover, but he is someone of significance. Right?”_

_Kathryn nodded slowly with deliberation, and all thoughts turned to her once the first officer. What was Chakotay? Chakotay was crisp; there was something refreshing about his presence; he was soothing, essential; she could not quite find the drink in her head; nothing seemed to fit quite right. Kathryn wracked her brain for a few minutes and sighed in irritability “I suppose the only thing I could say that comes close is water.” She muttered. “Yes, the more I think about it, the more I am quite sure, Chakotay is water.” She slapped her fist in her hand in triumph, thankful she had finally managed to categorise him, Kathryn expected a quip from her sister, a witty remark or sly comment. There was nothing but silence, and when Kathryn looked towards Phoebe, she was startled by her expression, there was a solemn look about her, one made up of pain and worry. “Phoebs?”_

_“Oh, Kathryn.” She whispered. Phoebe shuffled closer towards her sister and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, Kathryn could not help but notice how melancholy Phoebe sounded. “We can live without alcohol, but we’d die without water.”_

* * *

_Sweat was beading down his brow, breath coming in short quick intakes and the adrenalin coursing through his veins causes him to hear, feel, and taste his heartbeat. _

_The Bajoran lunges forward with a wild right-left combination, one that he manages to duck, he makes quick work of his feet, shuffling from left to right, allowing him to land a crisp jab across his opponents’ jaw. His opponent, briefly stunned, drops his hands to the side and staggers back, head at an upturn and tongue out, he is incensed at the jab, and with the anger comes resentment and power. The bell rings and the Bajoran sprints forwards, erratic in his movements and starts switching from orthodox to southpaw and back again. It is an endless onslaught of jabs he endures for the first 30 seconds, yet he manages to keep his head down and his fists up, there is no shame in taking a defensive stance. Sometimes, that is the only thing that separates life and death. _

_Chakotay is only just narrowly missing the shots, he guesses the Bajoran’s plan to corner him and cuts off the ring, pinning the Bajoran in his corner. He opens with six hooks in quick, fluid succession, only half of them connect, but he only needs one good hit, one of his hits connects and it is enough to shift the power balance. The right glove connects to the temple, and the Bajoran crumples to the canvas. He looks more annoyed than hurt, with a quick spit into the bucket he rises to the one knee, by the count of six he pushes himself up, by the count of eight he is upright. The Bajoran smirks at Chakotay, silently asking him whether he acknowledged how easily he beat the count to get up, it is a challenge, a quiet threat. ‘Give me your worst’ his eyes demand and Chakotay is more than willing to give his opponent just that._

_Chakotay is now poised to finish, bouncing on his toes, moving around the ring in anticipation, he noticed some rounds ago the deterioration of the Bajoran’s technique, it was getting sloppy, and he was getting careless. He noted that his opponent when cornered and frustrated lost finesse, tact, and resorted to a more aggressive fighting style, while powerful it was also uncontrolled, and unpredictable. Still, the Bajoran manages to land a crunching left-right combination to the head; it had enough power behind it that it had caused Chakotay to rock backwards. It is the Bajoran’s best combination of the fight and Chakotay responds with a wild flurry of looping punches that all miss by miles due to his disorientation._

_ Fatigue is beginning to set in, and he has the taste of blood on his tongue, he takes another hit. This time he feels the trickle of blood emanating from his nose, he barely has time to register the bleeding before he receives another crisp right hand. Most would have stumbled, but Chakotay has been scrapping since he was a boy, the older he got, the bigger and meaner his opponents got, his body had acclimated well over the decades, it was used to this sort of abuse. It allowed him to keep his footing, shocking his opponent into stasis, he takes the opening and lands a solid left hook that immediately disconnects the Bajoran from his senses. The challenger appears unconscious on the way down, and his head violently bobbles off the canvas with a revolting sound. _

_Game over._

* * *

“Sir, I have to say. You have a hell of a left hook.”

“Thanks, Dwayne, your uppercuts aren’t nothing to shy away from either, and your form is coming along. Just got to work on that frustration of yours when things do not go as planned.” Responded Chakotay.

The young man had come to his senses a few moments later after the bell had rung, a quick once over with the medic and he was up on his feet with a wide toothy grin. Chakotay liked him; he was one the younger ones to be assigned to his command, though _Voyager _was still under his command was still under commission and yet to be released to him. For now, he was captaining _The Battalion. _Chakotay preferred this interlude. It gave him time to get to know his crewmen, when he had chanced upon Dwayne down in engineering there was in instant rapport. He was a good kid and an even better fighter, impatient but he could attribute that down to youth, and it was something he was sure Dwayne would get control off in a few years.

“Will I see you next week? I know I just got my arse handed to me, but I had fun up there, and I learn a lot from you, sir.”

“Dwayne you landed more than a few decent shots out there and bloodied this old man’s nose. You can quit the ‘Sir’ talk when we are in the gym and the ring. Just Chakotay is fine.”

Chakotay watched as Dwayne chewed on the inside of his cheek, weighing up the options before carefully nodding. A group of twelve or so of his officers fell through the gym doors, raucous laughter filling the room, with whoops and shouts, they halted to attention at the sight of him and stood stock-still. Chakotay wanted to burst into laughter; you would have thought they happened across a Flevorian wildcat with the way they had all stood to alert. Schooling his features into passivity, he picked up his duffle and threw the towel around his neck before nodding at the group, a chorus of sir followed him out the gym doors.

He had needed this.

Needed the distraction, the sound of blood rushing through his ears, the pain in his jaw and fists, the ache of muscles that had been pushed to their limit, he had needed a full-body distraction from his thoughts. Though not prone to dejection and misery, it did not mean he was immune to it, and occasionally when it did descend upon him, like the waning of a blood moon, it was powerful and gripping. It started in his bones, cementing them and he would wake to such an earth-shattering sense of frustration and desolation, feeling as if the world itself rested atop his shoulders as if he were Atlas himself. Cursed, static, and bound.

Today had been one of those days.

He chalked it down to ghosts, not disembodied spirits, or shadowy evanescent forms that wondered amongst the living, haunting dark, grim and mournful places. No, not those kinds of ghosts, he would have preferred those, for what harm could the dead do? His people never feared the spirits of the departed; they housed knowledge and wisdom, warmth, wonder. His ghosts were far worse. Chakotay’s ghosts were the consequence of every decision he had ever made, every route not taken, every wrong turn, every regret. The regrets he had. Oh! What an impressive collection they were, he could almost consider them friends. They tended to emerge when his calm was disrupted, and they would do as ghouls do best, they would torture him. They sat atop his shoulders, clamoured around his back, and clung to his soul, and then they whispered and taunted and clawed. They opened every wound, no matter how small or insignificant nor wide and gaping, attacking freely and unrelentingly, ripping him to shreds, forcing him to relive every darkest moment.

The first time it had happened, had been the morning after he had left his mother, his sister, and his father. The remorse over the way he had left, the fight he had had with his father, the things that he had said, things he could no longer apologise for. Words he could never take back because the stubborn old man was no longer alive to hear it.

Those had been the first of his regrets, and they featured heavily in his dreams and conscience as the years progressed. Today’s attack of guilt was not about his father nor was it of Cardassians and Starfleet, it had been about Kathryn. That damned woman had the most infuriatingly profound effect on him, every disagreement, every rebuff, every missed opportunity, and blunder settled not on his back but his chest. It was suffocating, It was exhausting, and ultimately it was his fault.

The first night had been the most difficult.

That he remembered with absolute clarity, the beeping was incessant and yet there was a comfort to its rhythmic tune, it meant Kathryn was alive. There were tubes and wires everywhere, different colours and sizes, attached to drips and machines, her body obscured by bandages and her face hidden behind an oxygen mask. He had watched the condensation settle behind the mask and fade away, settle, and fade, settle and fade, with every breath that she took. The skin he could see was waxen, causing her veins to appear even more prominent, intricate branches of blue, and green delicately webbing around her body. He took her hand in his, a hand that replaced relays, shot phasers, and rewired turbolifts, a hand that had lead home a colony, comforted crewman, wiped away the blood, sweat and tears. A hand that belonged to a woman who seemed bigger than life, more than human, almost immortal, now looked frail and fragile. It cut deep, right to the marrow. He had brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them gently, whispering all the while silent prayers, demanding that she fight, begging her to survive the night, pleading that she never leave them.

He had not hesitated to demand that he beamed up to Starfleet medical and Admiral Paris had not resisted with the request, the two of them were taken to the viewing room above the operating theatre. Paris had sat, stoic, calm, and reserved throughout the entire surgery. He had stood. They could hear everything in that room, the surgeons talking, the blood being suctioned, the heart monitor. At some point from transport to the theatre Kathryn had gone from non-hemorrhagic fluid loss into hypovolemic shock, he knew the words. Still, he did not know their meaning; he had relied heavily on Admiral Paris to break it down into layman terms.

_“I can barely keep up.” He admitted. _

_“They are saying she has lost a lot of intravascular fluid Captain. Blood, water, serum, proteins all are at unbelievably low levels, namely due to the burns and lacerations, the loss of fluid has altered the oncotic pressure in her body. In short, it’s struggling to maintain the demand to keep her alive.” _

_Chakotay could not respond, focus instead shifting from the Admiral to the surgical bed below, everything was blurring slowly, he put a hand on the glass to steady himself._

_“Sit down, son.” Paris insisted. _

_Sitting down, he placed both elbows on his thighs, face hidden beneath his hands as he breathed large calming breaths. “How are you so calm?”_

_“I tell myself that they have done this thousands of times before, that the procedure is nothing more than a series of steps. I imagine it to be a tactical drill. First, they are going to deal with the tissue damage, seal up the burns and then start fluid resuscitation. It’s an administration of massive volumes of fluid, and then they’ll start hypertonic resuscitation, and colloid use.” Owen stated. “When I break it down like that, I feel better.” He stated. Chakotay noted his words belayed his visage; he looked the farthest thing from comforted, the lines around his face more pronounced, his lips pulled back and tense, it looked almost painful._

_“Like a training program.”_

_“Exactly my boy, I know it seems a lot, but they know what they are doing, I have faith in the surgical team, she will be fine.” Chakotay felt a strong series of pat on his back “I was a captain once. I made sure that I was there for every crewman’s procedure when I was captaining, it was the least I could do, and along the way, I picked up the jargon.”_

_“So that’s where she got it from.”_

_“Ah. So, I can correctly assume she did the same on Voyager?”_

_“She was there even at the times when she should have been the one being seen to.” He relented, a whisper of a smile playing on his lips as he remembered all the times, he had caught her out of the biobed and checking up on one crewman or another._

_“She’s a stubborn one, worse than her father I might add.”_

_Chakotay laughed, the pinprick of tears, the constriction of his throat, and the tightness of his chest “She’s an absolute menace.”_

Kathryn had been under strict visitation orders and was to be afforded a visit by none but her mother, at least that was what the ward sister had relayed onto him. He did not know whether it had been his forlorn expression, his pitiful appearance, his general depressing demeanour, or the fact that he had sat at ward reception for five hours.

Chakotay smiled.

It was probably a woeful amalgamation of all those things because he was soon approached by the ward sister again, he had more than expected her to kick him put, perhaps recruit security for extra insurance. Instead of that woman with her deep, rich umber skin and sweet, warm russet eyes sat beside him, gave him a cursory once over, and sighed loudly, dramatically.

_“If I must drink the swill that they are serving in canteen one more time, I will hand in my resignation. What I would give for a decent coffee and a pain aux raisin from Café de la Paix. If someone were to bring me such a gift, one could almost be tempted enough to ignore visitation orders.” She had looked at him pointedly then and proffered a wink. “If only such things happened.” She heaved herself up and strode over to the nurses’ station, a smile playing on her lips “If only there was someone who was as obliging.”_

And so, every morning at 2 am for six days he had strolled over to Starfleet med with a zarf containing eight coffees in one hand and a bag of baked treats in the other and deposited them energetically on the nurses’ station. In return, the other nurses overlooked his presence with grateful smiles and welcoming eyes, and ward sister Elie Rolf allowed him to sit by Kathryn’s side. He did nothing noteworthy while beside her, spoke extraordinarily little and nothing of any significance when he did. There were no sickbed confessions, dramatic monologues, or empty promises; he just sat, the thought occurred to him rather humorously that it would have made for the most boring of romantic scenes. He would have made a terrible love interest and leading man; he was nothing like the men of Tom’s 21st-century films, especially now that he considered how he had left her the day she had woken up, he had been hot-headed and irreconcilably cruel.

_He sat by her bed, reading ‘The Master and the Margarita’ a recommendation Kathryn had given him some years ago. She had given him quite the exhaustive list, filled with her favourite literary pieces, ranging from quirky haikus, lovelorn sonnets to philosophical literature. _

_He had felt her before he had heard her. _

_A hand placed gently on his forearm, stealing his attention from his book, a small cautious smile and watery eyes greeted him when he looked down towards her face. Chakotay bent low and placed his forehead on hers, a silent prayer in thanks, he inched back and ran his hand through her hair in a slow and gentle rhythm. She hummed in approval and closed her eyes briefly before fluttering them open and asking for water. _

_“How long?” she queried._

_“Just over a week.”_

_She settled back down; he could see the emotions flitting through her eyes; there was a comfortable silence between the two of them._

_“How is Grey?” she queried._

_“I am not sure.” He admitted. Chakotay settled back into his chair; he had been incredibly single-minded this past week, seeing her in the condition they had found her, watching her surgery, it all been very sobering._

_“I need to speak to admiral Montgomery.”_

_“Kathryn, your wounds.”_

_She waved him off, insisting she was fine. He watched her attempt to force herself upright, watched her wince, and puff air through tensed lips. She was speaking now, quickly, and succinctly, her hands animated and wild. It was a scenario that he had seen countless times before; this was an old stomping ground for them, she had spent years writing off the seriousness of her injuries, was expert in the dismissal of all things that related to her. A few years ago, in a distant quadrant on a forsaken ship, he would have contented himself with the knowledge that she was alive, there was never a reprieve from the call of duty. He had not a leg to stand on back then, how could he have told her to slow down or take it easy when every day was a new fight, and the only prize was survival for another night. _

_He called her name again._

_ She was not listening; he caught bits of her monologue, Grey was mentioned, cover-up, and something to do with a project involving the Borg; he was not listening. They were not listening to each other. He was irritated at first and then that irritation began simmering, smouldering his common sense and logic. _

_“For God’s sake!” he bellowed. She did not startle, and for that, he gave her credit, but her eyes were wide, her brows furrowed. Silence at last but it was no longer a comfortable interlude, it was a heavy, acrid thing that hung in the air like fetid flesh, he suddenly felt apologetic, this was not like him, he had not meant to make a scene. Chakotay was about to apologise for the outburst when he caught sight of her arm, still bandaged, and stained with her blood, then it all came flooding back. Every repressed feeling from the past several days and once those cordons had been breached, every emotion from the past several years. It hit him with the force of a tachyon phaser before he had been bound by duty, restrained by command and now that they were finally home, here on the Alpha quadrant, he found himself unchained. Unsuppressed, his fury that had once languidly resided in its caged confines bubbled and gurgled, till; it was seeping out of every pore. “You’re reckless.”_

_ The flood gates had opened with those two words “You have no tact; we aren’t in the Delta quadrant. You are no longer expected to throw your life on the line for every Starfleet uniform. You ran to save him.” the incredulity was palpable. He flinched back a pace as she outstretched an arm toward him, attempting to calm him, to placate him, now a safe distance from her touch he gestured angrily to the padd in his hand. “It’s all there.”_

_He paced, back and forth attempting to find the words, struggling to put order to his thoughts, trying to reign in his emotions, it was the same as being pulled in a hundred different directions and not knowing where to turn first. Anger was the only constant. He glanced at her again, caught sight of the newly formed skin, still red and broken, her right arms clutched to her ribs to ease the pain, her breathing still laboured from the effort it took to sit upright, and it renewed his anger. Tearing his eyes away from her in frustration, he continued in his outburst. “_ _The security footage captured everything. You threw your body over him during the explosion it’s right here in the report on that bloody padd.” He forced through his lips, tossing the padd on the bed. “Do you have so little value for your own life? Damn it, Kathryn.” he came towards her, she looked small, tired, and so very alone, every instinct in his body demanded he go to her and take her in his arms. _

_“It is my duty.” She uttered simply. There was no emotion behind her statement, no warmth, it was as if she were presenting cold hard facts, and just like that the temptation to shield her from the world within his arms died._

_“This goes beyond duty. You treat yourself as if you are nothing more than cannon fodder. Do you not think of us when you offer yourself up as lamb to slaughter?” He turned to her, giving her a chance to defend herself, but she sat there silent and static. His voice, when it finally came, was broken and cracked. “Of course, you do not, family and friends be damned. We are of no significance to you. You care more for that arrowhead you wear so proudly at your breast than you do anything else.”_

_“Get out.”_

_“You’re serious?” he deadpanned._

_“Indeed, I am Captain, how dare you.” Despite her earlier weakness, she had managed to summon the strength of ice into her words. They cut through him crisply “How dare you raise your voice at me, who do you think you are? Answer me, captain? What right do you have to talk to me like that?”_

_“Captain?” he repeated the word quietly, ‘captain’._

_ She continued her tirade and had managed to heave herself off the bed, she stood toe to toe with him now, looking up at him, blue eyes with the personification of defiance swimming about them. She had an acid tongue to be sure, this was something he had always known, but it had never been directed at him before. This was new territory for them both, and she was stripping the flesh off of him, pound by pound, second by the second but it was nothing in comparison to the pain that he had felt when she had called him by rank. He was not Chakotay, not her friend, her underling._

_ “Of course, why be frank when we can hide behind rank.” He uttered quietly; the fight swiftly vanished from his body, leaving him feeling incredibly cold and hollow._

_“Captain Chakotay you are- “_

_He held up a hand and halted her mid-speech “Please don’t overexert yourself on my account, Admiral.” He replied. The sentence was laced with disdain, and he spat out her rank as if it were something distasteful, he witnessed the hurt in her eyes but found, in that moment, he no longer cared. _

_“I’ll see myself out.”_

**She had woken up on the 7th day, at 5.45 am and at 6 am he had stormed out**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They make-up next chapter, just in case some of you are out there poised with weaponry about to attack.


	17. For you, I would say sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chakotay goes to apologise and Kathryn reveals the truth

# For you, I would say sorry.

* * *

He was the last person she expected to see at her front door, given how they had last parted.

The past few weeks had seen her inundated with crewmen after crewmen, all stopping by to check up on their former captain. Her living room was now a verifiable garden, filled with potted plants and flowers, and her kitchen was a confectioner's dream. It had been overwhelming and humbling, the concern they had shown for her, she had still nursed some doubt of whether the crew had forgiven her for destroying the array, all those years ago. Now she knew with certainty that those doubts that had crept into her subconscious as she lay awake gazing at starfields had been unwarranted self-torment.

Chakotay entered the apartment with grim determination, his look was one she knew well, one that usually reserved for hostile situations. She offered him both a beverage and seat with a quiet smile and a calm tone, taking great delight in the confusion that played upon his features at her welcoming behaviour. There was no doubt in her mind that he had come fully expecting to fight tooth, to enter the apartment and nail, to speak to her. They sat in silence, it neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, but both were lost to their own thoughts, Janeway was stuck in the past and Chakotay on the future.

"You would have liked my father." She muttered. Chakotay turned to face her, and she had initiated the first contact. Kathryn had tilted her head towards him, and she regarded him with a thoughtful expression. "And I suspect he would have liked you. The way you tore me a new one at Starfleet medical" Chakotay watched as her eyebrow rose, there was joviality in her tone and mockery on her face, he wondered if there would ever be a day when he was not surprised by her. He wanted to apologise, the thought to do so sprung to life and his tongue loosened in anticipation. "I'm sorry." The words were out in a single breath and were so quiet he could have argued that he had not heard them at all, his apology died on his lips, this was not going the way he had planned. He was on the back foot once more, a commonplace whenever the woman in front of him was involved, he nodded in affirmation.

Janeway held the cup tight in her hands, its heat a welcome comfort for the cold topic she was about to bring up. "Chakotay, you may have noticed that I am an all or nothing kind of gal."

"Ride or die."

She smirked "You've been spending time with Tom I see, but yes. Something like that."

"I have always been that way; I am never here" Janeway lifted her hand into the air, her hand hovered palm down by her face. Then she stretched her arm, so that both limb and hand rested far above her head "I'm here." lowering her hand, so that it now settled by her hip she looked him in the eye "Or down here. But never in the middle. Owen says I am pendulum, constantly in motion." She turned her attention away from him. "You said that I act as cannon fodder."

"Kathryn listen that –"

"You were right, few people know how I met Justin, even fewer knew that I was engaged, it had yet to be announced. Of those people, no one aside from myself and Owen know how he and my father died. I gave everyone the abridged version, mom, Phoebe, Starfleet" she paused "even you. But I think for you to understand me, all of me, I need to tell you everything." Kathryn let the words hang in the air for a few moments before she turned to face him, she had decided earlier that week that she was going to clear the air, have them on equal footing, but that meant honesty. It meant honesty in all things; they were friends, that was inarguable, but there had always been a ceiling to their friendship. A limit to the intimacy, if she wanted him as an equal she needed to treat him as one, old habits were hard to kill, but she would try, this was one relationship she could not bear to die. Janeway turned her attention away from him, hesitant to let him see the sadness and defeat in her expression. She settled her cup down and took in a deep, steadying breath. "I'll start at the beginning."

* * *

** _"You're a tough one, Ensign. I like that. Weak people annoy me. But- are you as tough as I am? I guess we'll have to wait and see." _ **

_"You're smiling," Justin said, "What's going on in that head of yours?"_

_His question broke her out of her reverie" Oh, nothing." Kathryn murmured. She rose to her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips "Nothing at all, future husband."_

_Their love affair had started with the issuing of a challenge; he had thrown down the gauntlet when he had said that and she had picked it up in undisguised scorn. Who would have thought that that the two of them would not only get along but would end up falling in love? Owen would argue that he had seen it from the very beginning, that he had engineered their meeting knowing that they would fall for one another. It was, of course, nonsense, neither had meant to fall and both had done their very best to avoid it, they weren't each other's types, but the pull was there, it brought them together time and again. _

_"When did you fall in love with me, Justin?"_

_She smiled when she saw the exasperation on his face. "You know when."_

_"Do I?" she teased, turning her back to him. "I don't seem to recall, tell me again."_

_Justin pulled her against him, her back to his chest, and his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her steady, she felt decidedly safe, comfortable, and warm. She tilted her head up and caught him smirking._

_"I fell in love with you when you refused to follow orders and dragged my body across the marshlands, with nothing but determination on your brow and the sweat on your skin. When you looked me dead in the eye and in that haughty, bratty tone of yours demanded that I" he paused and pressed a kiss to the top of her head "What was it you said? Oh yes. 'Stop giving me orders, lieutenant. This time you must listen to me.'"_

_"I do not sound like that." she countered._

_"No?" he questioned. She sunk deeper into his embrace "Perhaps my intonation was a bit off, I do believe you are right, I think you were a bit more nasal." _

_He was a conundrum. Prickly and sharp on the outside and molten in the middle, the only problem was that most people seemed to give up before reaching the centre, there were layers and layers of spindles and thorns that impeded access. She was stubborn, a trait that not only served her well but also played to her detriment, in this case, it had won her the love of her life. _

_"I do know that you had my begrudging respect when you refused to leave me behind with Cardassians and leg it to the transport site."_

_"So, it took a kidnapping, a broken ankle and my abhorrent stubbornness to get you to 'begrudgingly' respect me?" she sighed dramatically and shifted in his arms so that they were now face to face. "Is that all?"_

_"I suppose that backswing to the Toskanar's face helped a little."_

_She remembered that night, that was the night she had fallen in love with him. They had been wading through the swamp in pitch when a Cardassian trooper had finally caught up with them, and it had not been a hard thing to do. She had been dehydrated and fatigued, and Justin had been incapacitated by his broken ankle, Kathryn recalled seeing the Cardassian trooper smiling at them through the darkness as he unleashed his dog. Dog, she thought, it had been anything but a dog. A sturdy, sinewy looking animal that looked like a cross between a lion and a bear, with its muscular legs and high, shaggy head. She remembered watching in horror as the dog bounded across the clearing towards her, how she was rigid in fear, its jaw opened, baring a double row of pointed teeth, frothy slaver falling from its togue. Small, round eyes were glittering like lasers in the darkness; its glutaral growl of anticipation. She had accepted her death then, known it had taken too long for her flight response to kick in, but suddenly Justin was in front of her, and she was on the ground, he had thrown himself on its path, taking the impact of the animal's charge. The high-speed impact of hitting the ground had shaken her out of her reverie and torpedoed her into action, from there, she had made quick work of her surroundings and noted that large branch on the ground. It was large enough to maim but not too large so that she could not manoeuvre it, whether she intended to deal a death blow or not would be a thing she would wonder about for the rest of her life. Intentional or not, the branch slammed into the face of Toskanar with a sickening crunch; it did not even yell before toppling over, its skull crushed._

_"But you do not know when you fell in love with me?" she pushed. _

_"Kathryn, I don't know when I fell in love with you, not exactly. And I think that's because it feels as if I always have been. Time becomes subjective when I'm with you." _

_"Nice save."_

* * *

Chakotay swallowed back the shock at her retelling, and he had had no idea she had been captured by the Cardassians.

"So, you cracked open a Toskanar's skull?"

She broke into a small smile "I envisioned its body was a ball and the branch my racket" turning to him she gave him a wink "I have a mean backhand." She quipped. Her countenance suddenly darkened as memories drifted towards the surface, Chakotay wanted to tell her that this was enough, that he understood. "Owen was tortured for over an hour. He used to have the merriest eyes. I know you would not think it, looking at him now, but he used to be this wonderfully warm man, all smiles and laughter. He and my father were like two peas in a pod" Kathryn brought her hands up and waved them about her face in a show of energy "He had this twinkling energy about him. After that mission, he was muted, subdued. His eyes were so dull, dead even." Kathryn snuggled deeper into the sofa. There was curiously coloured puppy, all eyes and ears that had settled itself on her lap, it revelled in scratches and appraised Chakotay with wary curiosity.

"That's why you are incredibly close with Paris."

"Which one?" she quipped. "But yes, you are right. That mission brought Owen and me closer, but it also put distance between Tom and his father. Tom may not have been a child, but he was a teenager, and this may sound laughable, but he was a sensitive thing. He could not understand how his father went from being being 'Dad' to 'Admiral' overnight, there was no break in his persona."

Chakotay wondered if Kathryn saw the irony of her statement, whether she had picked up on the fact that that too was what had happened to her. She had several years of ongoing torture as a Captain, in an unknown quadrant, facing unknown threats.

"He started acting out a few months after his father returned from that mission. You know how Starfleet is, everything is all very cloak and dagger. I did keep an eye on him whilst I could, bailed him out of a few jams. The stories I could tell you about that Tom Paris as a teenager." she smiled "My attention petered out after the accident, and then I started command school. He had had no clue what his father had endured all those years ago, not until I had told him."

"You told him?"

"Well I had to get him on board, I needed him to track down a Maquis ship and their captain." She stared at him pointedly, mirth in her eyes.

The air had shifted, the silence was no longer purgatorial they had slipped into comfort.

Chakotay did not need to imagine what Admiral Paris had gone through in that hour, and he had been through it, had read files, freed detainees, seen their decimated bodies. The Cardassians found great pleasure in torture, and there was a satisfaction they got knowing they had broken you, he recalled interrogating on of their torturers. 'There's_ a moment, a singular moment where the light inside you is snuffed out, and all hope dies. It is such a beautiful moment. It means that I have won. I have beaten you. You are nothing' _suffice to say that his fist had promptly found refuge in the Cardassians face, he recalled with great pain, how that only seemed to fuel the Cardassian as he pummelled into him. That rage. It had been decades since he had been that man, he did not want to be that man ever again.

"Justin had been tortured for three days."

Chakotay's head snapped up.

"Two years before the Rangers' mission. He had been captured and then tortured for three days. He somehow managed to escape and make it back to base camp."

"He sounds like an impressive man," Chakotay replied. People rarely survived Cardassian torture, your body may have survived, but the mind perished. Justin sounded closer to Chakotay's stock than Kathryn's, he felt a kinship there hearing the man's stories. These were histories he had heard before, many from his time spent with the Maquis. The Maquis, it had been filled with species, people, men and women just like Justin. All had known struggle from the moment they had taken their first breath, had known war before they had known peace, strife before harmony. He recalled Kathryn mentioning that Justin had been 33 when they had met, and that she 21. He could imagine it, a bright wide-eyed Ensign straight out of the academy, yet to know pain and loss. A young woman with hope in her eyes and love on her lips, hopelessly smitten with the man she was describing. 

"Phoebe said we were mismatched, that we looked-" she paused "People didn't quite get it, they didn't see the appeal. They didn't see him."

* * *

_Kathryn's hands migrated from Justin's waist to his head and settled deep in his hair, she twirled the dark strands beneath her fingers and looked into his eyes. They were an odd pair; her father had said they were like day and night, sun, and shade, light and dark._

_He was not whom she imagined when she dreamt of her wedding day as a little girl; he was not whom most people imagined. She supposed, and they would have been perfectly within their rights with their assumptions, that she would marry someone like her. She was a legacy after all, a blue-blooded fleeter, someone who came from a long line of fleeters. As such it would be expected that she would have married someone of the same calibre, the same stock, as it were. They would both carry on their familial bloodline, clad in uniform and adorned in medals. Yet here was, with a man from a distant planet from a mining colony, he was not bright and shiny like the men she had grown up with. He was dark and brooding, moody at times, but also quick witted and honest. A rarity, his honesty was the subject of great debate on the ship and the reason he had few friends. Kathryn found him intriguing, beguiling, she adored everything about him, but his_ _ brilliance was what had captured her. God was he brilliant, gloriously so. She brought his head down and pecked his lips, just a tease, she thought, a foregleam into what they would do later, Justin had other plans. He chased her retreating lips and kissed her hard; it was a kiss designed to weaken and subdue, she melted beneath his touch and whimpered as he nipped at her mouth._

_"What do we have here?"_

_Kathryn jumped out of Justin's arms with such speed she had nearly knocked over the padds on the table; she caught Justin smirking at the sudden shift in her behaviour, how she went from lovelorn cadet to Ensign in a matter of seconds. Justin may have been her fiancé, but her father was her 'Daddy', her hero, her number one, the person she aspired to be._

"_Admiral Janeway" she replied._

_"At ease, Ensign, before you break something." Her father's eyes twinkled with mischief. "I just thought the two of you would like to join me in the cabin unless you'd rather –"_

_"The cabin would be grand, daddy" Kathryn caught herself as she and let out a sigh of frustration and then of embarrassment. First she gets caught kissing Justin and then she's calling her father, her commanding officer 'daddy' whilst on duty'. "I mean -" She pouted, her father was now sporting a full grin, fully enjoying the blush that adorned his daughters face. It was a rare thing, to see a Janeway flustered. "You know what I mean you tease" she slapped his arm. Protocol be damned, she had called him daddy, kissed her fiancé and snuck in a beer with lunch, all before the sun had set. "Let's go and test this darling ship, see how she moves."_

_The Terra Nova was a beautiful ship, designed to function in a variety of battle conditions. One of the innovations of the vessel was the warp thrusters, which provided quick bursts of speed without engaging full warp engines, allowing the ship to manoeuvre quickly out of dangerous circumstances, change positions, and return from the fray from an unexpected direction. She and her father had spent months working on the design and construction at the Utopia Planitia, and it had taken two and a half years to finish the installation. Kathryn had remembered that computer simulations had initially indicated intractable stresses to the hull from the manoeuvre, but her father had eventually solved this alongside other design problems. _

_As they entered the bridge Justin went straight to his station she enjoyed watched Justin at the controls, he handled them like an artist, it was almost as if he became one with the ship as he worked through the complicated commands. Her love for him swelled within her; it was living beating thing, that enveloped her in a warmth she had never known before. She was giddy, irrationally happy and she thought at that moment there was no way she deserved such happiness, that she would never be this happy again._

_"Solar winds are kicking up lieutenant," her father said. "Let's give the port thrusters one more burst and then call it a day."_

_"Aye, sir. It's been a good first run."_

_Kathryn shook her head; her two favourite men caught in the success of their trial run, she turned to leave, waving as she walked past the console. "I am going to check on the relays."_

"That's the last memory I have of them. Of the three of us together." She whispered. "One moment I was walking towards the engine room and then-" She paused, the decades that had passed had not lessened the pain or afforded her any clarity to that day. Through her story they had shifted, they now sat side by side, both their bodies angled towards each other. There was little distance between them now, he tried to reca when it was that they had shifted. When had they migrated to one another? Turned towards each other.

"I have a vague sense of falling, as if I were falling through space. Vaguely aware of a chilly breeze but it did little to bother me, I remember thinking, '_This is what it must feel like to be a kite lost to the wind'_.

* * *

_There was no sense of disaster or even mishap. Kathryn felt mildly curious as to the circumstances of her drifting but was not alarmed by them, and she closed her eyes. The sense of weightlessness lasted a while, and then she heard a rush of air and her body absorbed the massive impact. Pain screamed through the body and erupted from her mouth, and the thought that all the bones in her body must be broken wafted through. She lay stunned for a moment, waiting for her vision to clear, for the pain to stop and somewhere between the cold and the pain she fell asleep. _

_Something was in her mouth and her nose. She could not breathe; she was suffocating – she was dying. She coughed. Felt a sudden intake of cold substance and then choked and gasped, sucking in air and more of the frozen material. She lifted her head and looked up; she was lying facedown in a snowbank. That was not right, her mind offered, she should not be on the ground, there should not be snow, this is not home, this is not safe. She forced herself to her feet and shuddered at the pain that knifed through her and tried to focus on the area around her, identify something that was missing. There was a pool, a body of water, dark and glassy that seemed to lap and roll with unusual agitation but something was off. She looked around; there were no oceans, no seas, just a ring of troubled black water around a tall shard of ice, she took a small step and nearly collapsed. That was not right either, something was broken, whether it be femur, tibia or an ankle, she did not know– but it would not stop her, she continued, and made her way towards the water. Slowly the fog began to lighten, and reality started to settle as her eyes adjusted, there was debris scattered about the wasteland, she recognised them, they belonged to parts of a ship. A ship. A ship? She was on a ship. What was the ship called? A ship had a crew, her mind told her, a ship had a main cabin._

_Where was the main cabin?_

_Who was the pilot?_

_Where was the helmsman?_

_Where was the captain?_

_Dread settled in her bones; each question unlocked more of her memory._

_Where was Justin?_

_Where was her father?_

_She stood at the recesses of the pool and stared at its murky depths, there was no ocean, and there was no sea. Yet here stood a body of water, something had broken through the sheets of ice, something substantial, something. Kathryn now knew with crystalline clarity that beneath the water lay a ship. That's why the water was turbulent, why the ice had that mutilated look about it, there were several smaller holes around her, areas where bits of ships would have hit at such high velocity it cracked the ice. _

_They were there._

_Her father, Justin, they had been in the cabin. They were now submerged, entombed beneath that ravaged sheet of ice, tears streamed down her face and she looked about her, it was the day. She had not realised, the horizon had blended indistinguishably into a pale, grey sky, and she could see several snowy cliffs. There was nothing arm about this place; it was an, it was desolate and lonely. _

_She was alone._

_A painful scream echoed across the ice ridden landscape, and she knew what it was that she needed to do next. She lifted her broken leg and slammed into the ground beneath her, gently at first and then harder and harder, more pain, more agony. The pain distracted her, stopped her from fully accepting the truth. The horrible, grim truth that they were dead, and she was alone. There was nothing; she felt nothing, only the pain in her leg, the shattering of more bones. At some point she had sunken to the ground, near the water's edge, it mocked her. She dipped her hand into the water, then submerged her arm, then her whole body was in the water, her limbs were heavy, and her mind was still. _

_She let herself sink._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the upcoming took an age, they had been finished I April but I wasn’t happy, they have been re-written to death. What to include? What to eliminate? Did you guys want to know about what happened during the Cardassian mission? Maybe, maybe not. Did you guys want to know how Justin and her father died? Maybe, maybe not. Is it too long …too short. I think I found a happy medium. So. apologies for the wait.


	18. As blue as Larimar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kathryn has a frank talk about her mental state and finally tells Chakotay how she feels, hoping it will help her move on.

# As blue as Larimar

* * *

There was not much that he could say.

She had wanted to die, no, she had tried to kill herself. The knowledge that she could have reached a level of despondency where she had seen no way out, where there was no light at the end of tunnel hurt him. Her frank admission that she had tried to drown herself in arctic waters sent a chill through his being, and he could not imagine a world without her.

"I lost something that day, from that day on I had minimal regard for my own life. I had brushed hands with death twice and had attempted to take my own life; in short, I had destroyed that fail-safe mechanism that every living creature seems to have. The way I am now, everything I have gone through. I am explaining this badly." She turned to face him, embarrassment colouring her cheeks "Do you know what Larimar is?" she asked. Chakotay shook his head, and she chewed her lip in thought and just when he was about to ask her if she was alright, Kathryn launched herself off the sofa and disappeared into one of the adjoining rooms. "I'll be back."

She left him alone with his thoughts.

Chakotay had never seen her like this; she looked decidedly human. In his mind Kathryn Janeway was indestructible, a tour de force, you could not break her, and you could not beat her. When he thought of her, he thought of her clad in uniform, pips on her collar and fire in her eyes, but that wasn't her was it? It was a facet of her, he had forgotten, as had she. Somewhere along the way they both had forgotten that she was more than the colours she adorned, more than shades of red, black, and gold. Once upon a time he had known, he had seen her, the woman, but time had eroded her away, and Kathryn became synonymous with the Captain. The woman in front of him was vulnerable and open, careful, and methodical. He wanted to know her, this woman dressed in a beaten grey tank and lounge pants, who kept her feet bare and her hair free from pins. He made quick stock of her apartment; one wall was entirely hidden by a bookshelf, stacked to the brim with books. There were colourful paintings that adorned the beige walls, and plants in every corner. The curtains were drawn open, and the light shone through, there was life in this room, warmth, and personality, this was Kathryn Janeway. The Starfleet grey of her Captain's quarters, that was never her.

Chakotay shook his head.

When she returned, she deposited a small hard object into his hand and settled herself down next to him. He opened his palm to find a small gemstone; it was absolutely beautiful. 

“It's a beauty, isn't it? Looks like the sea on a clear day."

"Exquisite." he murmured. Where Kathryn saw the sea, Chakotay saw her eyes. Palming the small thing in his hand, he noted its substantial weight, smoothness, and beauty. Yes, this the exact striking shade her eyes took when the light from the starfields would hit them, when she was angled away from him, far from his reach in her ready room.

"I found that piece when I was younger on one of our vacations. Rough Larimar is much bigger than this, its encased, safely tucked away in a hard coat. Then it gets beaten down by the rocks, seas, and streams. You name it, it takes it, it endures quite the beating, and at the end of it all you have that stone." Her eyes focussed in on the gemstone in his hands "Less than a ¼ of its original size, no longer rough and impenetrable, with nothing left to protect its beauty. When it looks like that it's no longer just Larimar, it's referred to as Stefilia Larimar. Rare, small, beautiful and rich in colour. I feel like that, as if life has beaten me down to this. This form of Kathryn, invaluable to Starfleet, a precious commodity, pure in its form, with rules and regulations but a fragment of what I used to be."

“Kathryn.” Her name left his lips in a breath, he hadn’t meant to, but pain and worry had escaped along with the word.

“So on _Voyager_-“

“I understand the decisions you made out there.”

“Not all of them. Chakotay, I am willing to risk a limb for my ship, my career for my crew and my life for the ones I love.” She paused. “Now imagine that kind of person out there in the Delta quadrant. Can you see it? Can you imagine it?” she queried.

"I don't need to imagine it. I saw it. And you did the best with what you had." His free hand came down and rested on her knee, giving it a friendly squeeze, bringing her back from wherever it was her mind had taken her.

"Imagine what that person would have done if she had allowed herself -. I would sacrifice my life and 151 more. I'm selfish like that."

He wanted to fight her; she was the least selfish person he knew. Manipulative yes, cunning, incredibly, but she was also kind to the bone and selfless to the point of detriment.

"You terrified me. What I had with Justin was wild, a whirlwind of a romance. He was the dark and broody to my bright and shining personality." He watched as she tucked her knees under her chin. "He was ten years older than me. He disliked dogs; God did Phoebe dislike him. We were opposites and had we had the chance we would have been happy, I am sure. But it was new, naïve, and sweet. Mark was comfortable and secure." She turned to face him "You." She huffed a breath and chuckled.

"What about me?" He queried, surprise laced in his tone. 

"You settled into my bones. I loathed it, I relished in it. And try as I might to kill it and believe me Chakotay I tried. It was a stubborn thing. I pulled hard on those damned strings that tethered me to you, but they never seemed to sever. They may have thinned, and frayed as I drifted further and further, but never did they sever. I had not felt anything like it in all my time, throughout all the short-lived affairs and doomed romances. Christ did it terrify me, for a person so inclined to the extremes of emotion, acknowledging that I was falling in love with you was one thing. But the depth and rate at which I could fall, that I was falling." she turned away from him. 

Chakotay let out a deep breath, she was saying things he'd once have given his soul to hear. He had always known she had cared for him, was aware that she held him in some regard. Though it was never explicitly stated, he had very little to go off of and as the years went by he became less certain of her affection. Their friendship was unquestionable, their connection undeniable but whether she had loved him? That was a question he had never known the answer to. She had been falling for him, years of uncertainty and now he stood facing a cloudless sky. 

"That was terrifying. When I heard of you and Seven, I was relieved. Can you believe that? I thought I would be free." Kathryn paused.

_‘God what a mess that was.’ _Janeway thought. She had not meant to go down this road, she had well and truly gone off track, but he had usurped her with his sudden arrival. What possessed her to reveal all, after several years of repression, was beyond her.

Then it hit her, talk of whisky and water, that's what had loosened her tongue. That traitorous conversation she had had with her sister that had unearthed things that she was too stubborn to acknowledge. The first domino had fallen, and she could do nothing but helplessly watch as the rest collapsed in sequence. This was tragic; this whole sorry affair was dreadful; she should have just kept her secrets to herself. Yet, there was a tiny part of her that championed her in her confession, she had always had this feeling about them. For the life of her she could not find the word to describe it, in hindsight she doubted it even existed. The sense of something more, it always had felt to her as if they could have been something incredible, something indescribably beautiful, had the fates only been on their side. Now they would never know, Kathryn needed to bring this conversation back on track, away from past feelings and missed chances. She turned to him and freed the hand that was tucked under her chin. She wanted to run her fingers along his jaw, turn his head towards her and taste him. Kiss him on his full mouth, run her hands through his hair, feel his body against hers, the urge was strong and the pull almost magnetic; instead, she plucked the stone from his palm.

What could she say?

_I am glad we are friends._

_I am glad you moved on._

_I am glad we survived it all_.

Her mother used to say that _‘Life is a puppet show and we are all its puppets’, _and right at that moment, Janeway felt as if that's exactly how her life had seemed. It felt as if some omnipotent Q sat behind the scenes of her life, pulling strings that made her dance and fall. Holding the stone out in front of her, she scrutinised it in the light before tucking it away in her palm and bringing it to her chest. "Chakotay" she turned to face him "I am sorry."

"For what exactly?" he questioned.

"For the debacle at Starfleet med, the bomb." She confessed. That was not all she was sorry for; she was sorry for everything. Every damned little thing, from beginning to end, she was sorry for it all. "I will continue to make mistakes Chakotay, I am only human, but equally I will try. I know how much you all care for me" she paused for a moment "I am not expendable." 

The way she said it bothered him, it was said as an affirmation, not an acknowledgement more a confirmation, as if it were something she needed to remember.

"I have everything to fight for." Resting her hand on his knee she gave it a friendly pat before removing it. That same hand was then brought up and draped across her forehead, as she leant back "I know that, have always known. I just seem to forget." Her voice was small and by the gods and the spirits did it break his heart because he had never heard her sound forlorn “I get so lost sometimes. Everything becomes too much.” She caught his worried gaze, and he was a man who looked as if he wanted to say something. "Whatever it is you want to say you should probably say it."

"Kathryn, I often thought" she looked at him "With the bouts of melancholy, your moods, the detachment."

"You can say it, you know. It's not like Beetlejuice", she smiled as his apprehension gave way to confusion "One of Tom's films." She sighed "I think the word you are looking for is depression."

Chakotay nodded and sought out her hand, intertwining their fingers, the sensation sent a pleasant hum of electricity through her body.

"Do you know of the stigma that is attached to that word? Or anything to do with mental health within Starfleet? For all our technological advancement, we are stuck in our primitive ways in that regard. Somehow with everything that we endure they expect no fall-through, no clipped wings. We are expected to keep calm and carry on; it's laughable once you get past the tragedy of it all. Our treatment of those suffering being a prime example. Chakotay I know deep within the crevices of my being that had I ever admitted that I was depressed I would have never made it to Captain. Let alone been allowed to enter command school. I would have been a liability, at least in their books. I already have emotionally unstable ticked off, thanks to the misogyny of my sex. Now add depression to that list." 

She had had to suck it up and plough on, the old boys in grey could do it that meant she should have been capable of it too. If she was frank with herself that was part of the reason, she never sought help, and the other was fear. The fear that if she admitted it, that would be all people would ever see, a diagnosis. She would no longer be a person, Janeway had seen it happen before, it had nearly happened to Owen, once that door was open there was no way back.

They would treat you as a volatile chemical, as if at any second you would simply implode. Any emotion displayed from the moment the diagnosis reached their ear, was treated as an episode, rather than a legitimate worry from an experienced officer. Then came the ostracisation, most handed in their commission and took early retirement. What good were they now? What good were they when no one bothered to hear their voice? Treated as if they were no better than white noise.

"Looking back, I should have addressed it earlier, the coping mechanisms, therapy and medication this past year has been a godsend. If only I had not been so caught up in" Kathryn waved her hands in the air "Everything".

“You’re in therapy.” 

“During the reunion” she sighed “Well let us just say I gave my family cause to worry.”

"I wish you had told me. God knows how alone I felt out there sometimes, how we all felt out there." His eyes bore into her own, there was not an ounce of pity, and for that, she was thankful. "Everything you've just told me Kathryn; you had all that on your shoulders, and you captained _Voyager_ home. As impressive a feat as it was and still is. It was fool hearty, reckless and unnecessary. I have never understood your pig-headed stubbornness nor your exasperating insistence upon braving it alone. Not until today"." He shook his head "I wish you would have let me in, as your friend Kathryn, as close as we were, I could have helped. You are damned near impossible sometimes."

"I know, I am working on it." She settled back into the couch.

"I am not used to this." He gestured to her "This frank and honest version of you. I came here expecting another fight, the very least for you to refuse me entry. I had a vision of myself banging on that door, yelling out your name and overriding the security system to get in. I had every intention of being the one to take the higher ground. Can never let me get the upper hand, can you?" he quipped.

"Of course not, someone needs to keep you in check. Incidentally, you are the second person this week to say that. I am not that bad. Well, perhaps, I am." She teased.

They looked at one another with conspirator grins and all fear that they may have irreparably damaged their friendship faded away.


	19. Not what I intended

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After her confession, things get heated for our duo

# Not what I intended

* * *

She was laughing in deep throaty tones, had been for the last half hour, the two of them had settled into raucous banter. For the first time in a long time he could see that Kathryn was happy, the last couple of weeks aside. He had noticed it at the homecoming ball, there was a lightness to her step, a weight off her shoulders, a smile on her lips. It was beautiful to see and painful to know that he had, in no way, had a part in her newfound happiness.

The last few weeks had seen Chakotay revisit the memories of their last meeting, and he tried to inject some sense into it all. He surmised that there were several factors at play, her almost dying, her cavalier attitude to that fact, the lack of rank and finally jealousy. That particular revelation had hit him late at night, when he could not sleep because his body was wired and his mind cruel. The first person she had asked about, upon waking, had been Captain Grey, and all things considered, it was to be entirely expected. Had it been any other scenario he would have thought nothing of her inquiry. Yet, it hadn't, she had been at death's door, and his face wasn't the one her mind had conjured, she had barely acknowledged his presence, was unaware of the time he had spent by her bedside. He blew up. It was petty, and he was embarrassed, especially since she had been awake all but fifteen minutes, hardly enough time to process or acknowledge anything.

He looked at her now, hair cascading down one side of her body, eyes closed in contentment with a puppy on her lap and he knew, he just knew. He had thought that they had settled into a comfortable relationship, that his love had evolved into one of placid friendship, what a fool he had been. It had merely been forcibly pushed into a corner and told be a square when it was a circle; he still loved her; he was not over her. She spoke of her love for him as if it were a past entity, his liaison with Seven seemed to have settled those fires, given her the freedom from him she so needed. He, however, was at an impasse, would he ever stop loving her?

"I won't" he muttered.

She looked at him, and he could read her confusion, he did not blame her, he had not meant to voice that particular sentence out loud.

"You won't what?" She asked.

There was another thing that played on his mind during her confessional, it was the amount of times she had apologised to him, and it was not just today. When they had been at Proxima station, she had apologised, at his apartment she had apologised, and now she was apologising again. "You've been apologising to me quite a lot."

"I feel as if I have a lot to apologise for." She admitted, shifting her gaze away from him.

"Kathryn, about Seven and I."

She gave a weary sigh and nodded for him to continue.

"You apologised for that also."

"Oh that. A sort of catch 22 had we stayed out there you would have been two years into a relationship and married, only to have it end in death." She sighed "I genuinely believed that you would have had more of a chance here. I thought I had saved you the pain of heartbreak. I'm –"

He looked at her sharply, and the apology fell on her tongue. Chakotay's irritation had sparked back to life, he got up and paced, searching for the words to say to her. Stopping briefly, he huffed a growl of frustration and stared at the ceiling. "You always do this." he relented. He heard his name echo throughout the room, the tone soft and sweet, placating. "You plan and plot." He continued, and just like before she called out his name, urging him to settle. "You're always ten steps ahead, the all-seeing seer with her tapestry weaving our fates into reality. We have no say. Did it ever cross your mind? Did you ever think of what it was that I wanted?"

"All the time." She admitted regretfully. "That was all I thought about, for all of you, constantly."

"And, Kathryn. What did you think I wanted?"

"You wanted to be happy."

"Spirits Kathryn. What an oversimplification."

"I don't understand." she punctuated each word, highlighting her confusion. 

"Of course, you don't." There was a pregnant pause, and he wasn't quite sure how to fill it. They were being disgustingly frank and honest here and he didn't know how to navigate this new territory smoothly. He took a breath in to steady his mind, he could appreciate how cathartic this would be for them in a few days, weeks or even months, but right now it was hell. He eyed her pensively as she gathered the cups and walked past him to the kitchen, emptying them as she went along, he recognised what she was doing, she was distancing herself from the situation. Distracting them both from his ire and her grief, he was thankful for that, the hum of the coffee machine and the sound of bubbling water was a welcome interlude, it allowed him to take stock. "Do you remember what you said to me at Proxima station?" he asked.

Her coffee was ready, and she was now facing him, cup in hand and back against the kitchen island, she inhaled its contents and eyed him carefully, warily, like a cornered animal.

"There's a chance that Seven and I could still end up together."

"I meant it." 

"I know you did." And he did. He knew she had meant every word she had said that night. Kathryn never said anything without intention, and never acted without thought or purpose. Chakotay could see her eyes rake over his form, scrutinising his face and body, no doubt she would pick up on it soon. There was no hiding from Kathryn Janeway; she stepped closer towards him; she barely came up to his chest in her barefooted state.

"You're angry at me." She stated. 

"I am angry at a lot of things" Chakotay stepped away, taking some much-needed space from her. Her proximity wreaked havoc on his person, her fragrance, her eyes, her concern, the heat emanating from her body, it was too much. It was too much and far too soon.

"Isn't that where your heart is? Where it should be?"

The sharp look her gave her made her pause for thought. Irritation simmering behind blackened pupils, what would she know of his heart or where it lay? What would she know of where it should be? How could she be blinded as she was to the answer? It was her, always her.

"At the homecoming banquet, it seemed as if that was the direction you were headed. I had never seen you so content."

"And it took a graze of your lips to fast track that out the airlock" he stalked over to her held her eyes with his own, regarded her with unfiltered desire "I still remember it."

It was Kathryn's turn to step back, the heat in his gaze sent goose-bumps across her skin and awakened an uncomfortable wave of desire, something she had thought long buried. She could recall no such moment, Kathryn would have remembered kissing him, she remembered all their near misses, from the heated looks to the briefest of touches. The only moment she could recall would be in the transport room, she had kissed him, she had kissed them both at the end of the evening.

"I kissed you goodbye" she stated in confusion "both you and Seven."

"Exactly. You kissed me goodbye" There it was again, the glimmer of pain and the flash of anger. What right had he to feel those things? To make her feel guilty for doing what was in her best interest, what was in both of their best interests. Should it not be her simpering in the corner nursing her bruised ego and broken heart? She had done what she had always done, faced her obstacles head-on, and at the time, her obstacle was him and his new relationship, and she did what she was good at. She picked up her britches, straightened her back and championed them on.

"You say that you tried to sever yourself from me, that those bonds remained. I am telling you that that's not true." He stepped closer, closer than he had ever been before "that night you succeeded, I felt it, you allowed me to get this close to you, and you hid nothing: no bottled emotions, no mask of indifference, no captain persona. Just you and that infuriatingly calm acceptance after a well-fought fight. It's a look I know well, my companion these past several years." His jaw was set and his look intense, wiling her to challenge him. "You kissed me goodbye and placed my hand in Seven's."

"I was showing you that I supported you" She insisted.

It was almost plea, was she asking him to stop? He paid little mind to it and continued "You let me go."

She could not argue with him on that point, but his certainty caused her breath to hitch. He was close now, closer than they had ever allowed one another to be "such a simple, well-meaning gesture."

"It was meant as such Chakotay."

Of course, she let him go; it would have been selfish to hold onto him. Didn't he want release? Wasn't that the reason he had taken up with Seven, to allow himself a semblance of happiness? What did it matter now who let whom go? Their paths had diverged, she was hurtling towards the stars and he to a planet below, he would remain rooted, and she would be lost to the cosmos. She should never have brought up Justin, nor her father or her godforsaken feelings for him, she should have kept her mouth shut and her feelings buried.

Chakotay took hold of her hand and pulled her closer, and she questioned how that was even possible. He was in front of her and all around her, heat and spices; her senses were flooded. Her heart was adherent to him; her body hypersensitised to his very being; it was an all-out assault on her senses. He lowered his face and grazed his lips against her cheek, reminiscent of how she had left him on that transport dock.

"It's amazing, isn't it? How such a simple, innocent action unlocks so much."

Her breath caught in her throat, eyes fluttered shut and lips parted. Chakotay's grip tightened around her fingers, while his free hand stole up to her arm and snaked around her neck, gathering her hair in the process, and pulling it aside. With unimpeded access, he was free to continue his exploration, and that knowledge excited him, his head dipped lower, trailing both mouth and nose over heated skin. He delighted in the sighs and gasps as he playfully nipped at her ear lobe, revelling in the knowledge that it was he who had brought her to a shuddering breath. That it was his mouth, and his kisses that stole her breath away, neanderthal and simple minded as it was, he could not fight his elation.

The first moan had sent a crack through his control, and he continued his unrelenting attack on the fragile column of her neck, needing more, craving all of her. Hands found their way to the straps of her tank and fingers hooked beneath, sliding the material down inch by torturous inch. _Let her burn _he thought as she was slowly revealed to him, it was indulgent, seeing her in a state of undress. Savouring the moment, he drank her in, from the creamy expanse of her chest, lightly dusted with freckles to her flushed face, now tilted at an angle, the position exposed her neck. In what? Submission, acceptance, intimation, _Mine_ he thought, it was a faint and distant thought, one that echoed in the background of his arousal and he paid it no mind. With eyes closed, and lips parted, in a silent plea for attention, begging to be kissed, Kathryn looked wanton. How many nights had he dreamed of having her like this? Chakotay kissed along her jaw, close to her mouth before deciding to retreat, he was both teasing and coy. Knowing how much she wanted his lips against her own, yet denying her anyway, he was yearning for it too, but wanted her gasping, pining. His hands were relentless as they traced shoulders, clavicles and breasts, and it was there where he finally stilled, to palm at the pliable flesh.

Fingers skimmed over bra edges before disappearing beneath the cups and tugging downwards, freeing her at last. Her breasts rested atop the cups like an offering, one he was keen to accept; Gasping as her nipples were exposed, she took quick in-takes of air, in an attempt to control her breathing. It did not work, her breasts were thrust forward with every inhalation, and her nipples tightened and pebbled as he rolled them between his thumb and fingers. He kept his touch light; enough to tease but not enough to satisfy causing Kathryn to cry out in frustration. Bent on having her molten, Chakotay replaced his hands with his mouth, sucking, teasing and torturing her in the sweetest ways.

His hands descended to her hips and heaved her onto the stool behind them. It took a few seconds for her legs to fall open and for him to step between them, the stool was high enough to compensate for her lack of height. She was placed perfectly; right where he wanted her, the warmth that was rolling of her body in waves soothed and comforted him, her scent was devouring at the last shred of his control. His mouth had found its way back to the hollow of her neck, and his hands had found solace tangled in her hair, it was decadence and hedonism, and he wanted more. The sounds that escaped her mouth, they sang to him, called to something deep within his soul.

"Chakotay."

The spell was broken. With his name on her lips in confused arousal, it cut through the erotic haze, and he looked down, her tank top bunched around her waist, the straps around her elbows, her hands resting on his forearms in a weak attempt to steady herself. Her nipples were puckered, and tight, there was a light trail of slaver that started at the peaks of her breasts and ended at her neck, her body was angled towards him. All of that was enough to reduce him to his knees, but it was the look on her face that clenched his abdomen and made him feel reckless, her pupils were blown beneath lowered lashes, and her cheeks were flushed a delicious shade of pink.

"We should stop here." His face was back by her cheek, lips by her ear and his breathing was strained, telling her he hadn't meant for this to happen. He had never intended for them to end up like this, this was not the projected end either of them had foreseen. "It's been an emotional evening." His voice was barely above a whisper.

Kathryn had her own dilemma, she could not move, she could not move for all the credits in China, her hands refused to work, and the best she could manage was a slight flexion of her fingers on his arms. She turned her attention upwards, managed to lift her head to look at him, Kathryn was unsure as to what expression she was wearing, but what it elicited in him made her thighs clench in anticipation.

"Don't" he murmured harshly, and with that, he lowered her head.

Kathryn found it curious, never before had a man turned her gaze away, but here was Chakotay tilting her head downwards, protecting them both. She watched with aroused fascination as her breasts were slipped back into her bra and the straps brought back to her shoulders. Kathryn found the act of him redressing her far more intimate than a kiss, touch or look.

"Don't what?"

She heard rather than saw him shake his head, and when she chanced a peek up, she spied him with his eyes closed and his head directed to the ceiling. He had done that several times since he had arrived, it was an action she was unfamiliar with, one she never saw on _Voyager_. Though this was a scenario that would have never played out on _Voyager_ either, she wished she could clear the fog that had settled in her head, all she had to go off was raw emotion, and it felt dangerous, tempting, and deadly. His hands tightened once more around her waist, and with that, his resolve returned, he dipped his head again and placed a chaste kiss to her forehead, it was sweet and innocent and felt out of place all things considered.

" Goodnight, Kathryn."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a while to get to some modicum of action, apologies but I hope it was worth wait and that you enjoyed the last two chapters and the build up


End file.
